Pennsylvania Avenue Prodigies
by REIDFANATIC
Summary: Sequel to Golden Gate Genius Fletcher Bancroft pays a visit to Washington DC. Will his reunion with Agent Reid be a happy one or is there trouble on the horizon.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, no copyright infringement is intended.**

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"Reid man, I need your help," Morgan said as Reid had just barely arrived at his desk on a Thursday morning.

"What kind of help Morgan," Reid asked suspiciously as he quickly leafed through the mail in his in box?

Morgan lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. "I need your help with a woman."

Reid squinted at his friend, the confusion evident on his face. "I'm probably going to kick myself but I have to find out how I who never…well never mind that, how I could help you with a woman. Please enlighten me."

"Okay, I met this woman the other night at the bar and I asked her out." Reid nodded, it sounded like the usual for Morgan. "Well, Cassandra, that's her name, is a cautious woman and she doesn't want to go out alone with a man she doesn't know, and I totally understand that. I told her I was an FBI agent but she wasn't that impressed but then Garcia told me about this guy who hit on Emily one night at the bar claiming to be an FBI agent when he actually wasn't so I guess women have to be careful. Garcia said you should have seen the guy's face when the three of them flashed their ID." Reid nodded again. "Anyway, she said she'd go out with me on a double date if I could find a date for her friend Phoebe."

"No, oh no, stop right there. I'm not doing it," Reid said adamantly, shaking his head. He headed off to get his coffee with Morgan following behind.

"Come on Reid, it'll be good for you," Morgan attempted to persuade his friend. "It's not like you've got women breaking your door down."

"Thanks Morgan, thank you for reminding me of that fact," Reid replied.

"Look Reid, Cassandra is a real babe, really fine, if you know what I mean," Morgan explained with accompanying hand movements as Reid poured his coffee.

"Yes Morgan, I know what you mean."

"Reid, I've seen Phoebe. She was with Cassandra the other night. She's twenty-five, twenty-six, somewhere in there; she's got shoulder length blond hair, pretty. She's a high school teacher. Cassandra says she's got a great sense of humor. Come on man, you gotta do this for me."

"I don't know Morgan, I hate blind dates," Reid told him, adding sugar to his coffee.

"Well it's not exactly blind. I mean I've seen her, she's not a dog or anything. Anyway, have you ever been on one," Morgan asked, realizing he didn't know much about Reid's dating life, well he actually didn't think Reid had a dating life. That being the case, he considered he was doing Reid a favor instead of the other way around.

"No, not really, but I have no desire to be stuck with some girl I know nothing about. What would I say to her," the young genius pondered.

"Not a problem, I told you Phoebe was a high school teacher. You're gonna love this man, she teaches math and physics."

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Delta flight number 1352 from San Francisco taxied on the runway at Dulles. It had been a long flight Fletcher Bancroft thought as he looked out the window. He was excited, and Fletcher didn't get excited often but now was one of those rare occasions. He had won the California State Science Fair, earning the right to attend the National Science Fair with the winners from the other states. To most eight year olds that would be thrilling enough but that wasn't what had Fletcher's blond head bouncing in his seat. He was happy to be going to the science fair, to be sure, and he was confident that his project could compete with the other state winners. What had him truly keyed up, however, was the fact that Washington DC was only a hop, skip and jump from Quantico, thirty-one miles to be exact, he'd checked. Someone he cared very much about worked at Quantico and maybe, if he was lucky, they could get together. That would be the greatest, Fletcher Bancroft and Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid together again, unbeatable.

Theresa Montoya was trying to look everywhere at once. She had never been on an airplane before and had never considered she'd go somewhere like Washington DC but when Fletcher had won the science fair he needed an adult to accompany him and Lord knew, Dr. Bancroft and Ms. Fletcher wouldn't do it, so they decided that Theresa would go. The young Mexican woman fingered the material of her gold corduroy waist length jacket that coordinated with a white tank, a white and brown plaid skirt and knee high brown boots. Ms. Fletcher had given her some money to buy some new clothes. She'd also got her hair styled a little shorter and it suited her face. Fletcher had certainly approved telling her she was beautiful. The boy was so excited at the thought of seeing Agent Reid again and Theresa had to admit she was looking forward to seeing him as well. He and Agent Prentiss had gone to bat for her after she had been attacked by Fletcher's kidnapper leading to her being allowed to stay in the country legally.

She had thought of looking for a better job now that she could move around freely but that would mean leaving Fletcher. If she wasn't there, there would be no one to care for the boy. His parents didn't care. She knew that for a fact after what she had overheard. Maybe if she talked to Agent Reid. She knew he cared about Fletcher. He'd been so kind to both of them following Fletcher's kidnapping. Fletcher was a tough little boy. He'd had to be with no love and support from his parents. Agent Reid had stayed a couple of days to make sure he was okay. He said he had lots of vacation time to use. He had seemed to know just what Fletcher needed. The day he'd gone Fletcher had run to his room and closed the door. She'd knocked but he didn't answer and she could hear him sobbing his heart out. Fletcher never cried.

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David Rafferty adjusted the zoom lens on his camera. They were both here. They didn't usually choose places as public as this so maybe it was necessity. He'd arrived the day before yesterday without the beautiful Sienna. She was apparently speaking at some universities in the northwest, being the good wife, according to her secretary. So Matthew Blake, presidential hopeful, was here alone or so it appeared. But then the lovely Laura Ashburn, talk show goddess of the airwaves showed up. Millions tuned in daily and hung on her every word. The mere mention of a book from her lips made it an instant best seller. She had the power to make or break a person and she had endorsed Matthew Blake. Rafferty laughed. Endorsed, is that what they were calling it these days. He'd heard it called something a lot less flattering, an affair, extramarital sex or just plain fu…ooh la la, who is that tasty little enchilada, he thought as he watched a beautiful young woman with shoulder length black hair get out of a cab with a blond little boy and head for the hotel while the bellhop got their bags. She turned to say something to the bellman and it seemed that she looked right into the lens of his camera. Her eyes were beautiful, almost black and her smile, enchanting. She wasn't the reason he was crouched in the bushes but he snapped a picture of her anyway. At least his day hadn't been a total waste. Perhaps he'd find out who she was. Maybe he could get her endorsement.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: I have once again in this story ignored the fact that JJ has a boyfriend and a child because I hate it.

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Reid sat at his desk, trying to work after agreeing to go out on a double date with Morgan and the two women. What had he been thinking, he asked himself? He had been about to tell Morgan that he'd changed his mind when his friend had said he'd called Cassandra and they were on for dinner tomorrow night at Remington's, a stylish and popular Washington restaurant. He'd given Reid the thumbs up and Reid's stomach had started to churn. Why hadn't Morgan asked Hotch, Reid pondered. He would have been the better choice. He knew how to talk to women. Maybe the boss should start dating again after his divorce from Haley. He'd heard rumors that Haley had moved on. Why was he sitting here speculating on Hotch's love life? He had his own problems, namely dinner tomorrow night with someone named Phoebe.

Relax, he told himself. It's just a woman. You talk to JJ, Emily and Garcia all the time and they're women. He went back to the consult he was attempting to work on when the ringing of his cell disturbed his concentration. He didn't recognize the number, "Reid," he said into the instrument.

"Hi, Spencer?" said a child's voice.

"Yes…" he said slowly, then, "Fletcher, Fletcher is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. How are you?" the boy replied.

"I'm good Fletcher. Is that why you called, to find out how I am?"

"No, I called because I'm here, in Washington. I won the California Science Fair so now I'm here for the National Science Fair that starts on Saturday. Tomorrow we have to do set up and the judges walk around and look at our work and ask some questions before it's open to the public. But today's pretty much free so I thought I'd call you and …um, say hi."

"Fletcher, that's terrific," Reid squeaked. "Who's with you, your dad? He'd be a big help in a science project. I'd like to meet him."

"No, my parents couldn't come. Theresa's with me," the boy explained.

"I see," Reid said in a clipped tone but then thought Fletcher might think he was angry at him. "So," he said lightly, "Are you and Theresa doing anything for dinner?" He heard the boy say something to Theresa.

"No, we're not doing anything special," he said.

"Okay, after work I'll drive over to your hotel and we'll have dinner and you can tell me what you've been up to and about your project. Okay?"

"That's…that's great," the young genius squealed into the phone. "I'll see you later then."

Fletcher was about to hang up when he heard Reid calling, "Fletcher, Fletcher."

"Yeah," the youngster said.

"You forgot to tell me where you're staying," Reid said and Fletcher told him. "Okay, I'll see you later." Reid smiled into the phone as he talked to the boy. When he ended the call his smile became a scowl.

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Theresa walked into the fashionable boutique located in the lower concourse of the hotel. Fletcher had promised to stay in the room and not answer the phone or the door. She'd told him she wouldn't be long. She looked at the racks of clothes of all different styles and became more confused by the moment. A young woman with long blond hair that revealed dark roots approached her. "May I help you," she asked.

"I want to get a dress for dinner but I do not know what to get," Theresa told the woman in heavily accented English.

"What kind of dinner is it?" the woman asked. "Do you know where you're going?"

"Here in the hotel, I think," Theresa responded.

"Okay," the woman said, "Is this a business dinner?"

"No, not business," Theresa replied.

"Is this dinner with a man?"

"Ches," Theresa said, "Very handsome man."

"Uh huh," the clerk said. "You've got three basic options. Option number one is just what you're wearing now. It says you took some care to look nice. Or option number two," she pulled out a very dressy sequined top with a round neckline and three quarter length sleeves, "Something like this could be worn with dressy pants or a skirt. It says you took extra care to look nice for dinner. Or option number three," she pulled a black chiffon cocktail dress with ruching on the low bust line. A silk band wound around the garment just below the bust and the skirt fell in soft waves to just below the knee. It was held up with spaghetti straps. "This says you might be interested in more than dinner."

Theresa surveyed the clothes the clerk had picked out and looked at the ensemble she now wore and said with a shy smile, "I think I will take option number three."

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Reid knocked on the door of room 321 and it was answered almost immediately by an exuberant Fletcher who threw himself into Reid's arms. "Hi buddy," Reid said as the child seemed to burrow deeper into Reid's embrace. "You okay?" he asked.

"Uh hm," the boy said into Reid's shoulder.

Reid walked into the room the child still in his arms, "Where's Theresa?"

"In there, getting ready" the boy pointed to the bathroom.

Reid set the boy down on the floor and sat on the bed. "So what have you been up to besides getting ready for the science fair?"

"Nothing," Fletcher said quietly. Reid didn't like the sound of this from the boy who'd told them he was never bored. The door to the bathroom opened and Theresa came out. To say she didn't look anything like the last time Reid had seen her was an understatement. Her hair was shorter, not short but shoulder length, cut in such a way that it framed her face and she had bangs now. She wore eye shadow and red lipstick which Reid had never seen on her before. But most noticeably, the uniform was gone and had been replaced by a black cocktail dress with a pleated bust and spaghetti straps. It accentuated Theresa's body very nicely.

"Hi," Reid squeaked as he stood up.

"Hello Agent Reid, how are you?" she asked.

"Good, I'm good and you," he replied. "You uh, look uh, nice."

"Gracias."

"Do I look nice too?" Fletcher asked and Reid noticed the boy's apparel for the first time. He wore black corduroy pants with a gray woven shirt topped with a blue sweater vest featuring argyle pattern stitching.

"You look very handsome Fletcher," Theresa said.

The threesome proceeded down to dinner where Fletcher babbled about his project, none of which Theresa understood. She was concentrating on the very attractive Agent Reid. When Fletcher excused himself to go to the bathroom Reid said, "Theresa is something wrong with Fletcher? He doesn't seem like himself."

"I have to talk to you, but I cannot do it while he is here. Can I see you tomorrow?" Theresa asked.

"I can't tomorrow, I have an engagement. Can I see you on Saturday while Fletcher's at the science fair," Reid inquired.

"Ches, that will be fine. You are not going to like it."

Fletcher rejoined them and they talked about mundane subjects during the remainder of the meal. David Rafferty sat at a table near the back of the restaurant alone; eyeing the beauty he'd seen this afternoon. She looked like she was ready for some action but she wasn't getting it from the guy she was with. Now he could give her some action that she'd never forget. He'd show her what a real man was like. She'd have to ditch the kid though. That could be arranged. He paid his check and left the restaurant to find just the right place to watch and wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Reid's cell phone rang as the threesome was leaving the restaurant. He recognized the number and sighed, "Reid."

"Hello, it's Anderson," the voice on the phone said.

"Oh hi Anderson, do we have a case? Why are you calling instead of JJ?"

"No, no case, Detective Buckley called from Little Rock," Anderson told him. "You did the consult on his case and there's been a development. He wants to talk to you about it right away. He says lives are at stake." Anderson gave him the detective's number, glad that it was Reid because he wouldn't need to have his memory refreshed about the case and Anderson wouldn't have to go hunt up the file.

"Okay, thanks Anderson, I'll call him right away." Reid ended the call and turned to Theresa and Fletcher. "I have to make an important call but I should see you back to your room."

"No, that is fine Agent Reid," Theresa said. "We will see you on Saturday, ches?"

"I'll be there, good luck with the judges Fletcher," Reid turned and headed out the door dialing his cell as he went.

Theresa and Fletcher turned and started walking in the direction of the elevators. When they passed one of the stone pillars in the foyer a man appeared from behind it and said, "Well hello beautiful."

"Hello," Theresa said, moving Fletcher forward quickly. She did not like the look of this man for some reason, not that he was unattractive. He was tall and athletically built with dark brown hair cut short and a neatly cropped beard. His eyes were a piercing blue.

"What's your hurry doll?" he said, reaching out to touch Theresa's arm.

Theresa pulled away. "Do not touch me. I do not know you." Theresa's mind flashed back to how Mickey Donovan had been all over her when he kidnapped Fletcher and…no, she wouldn't think about that.

"Well, imagine that, that's just what I was looking to change. How about you and I have a drink and get acquainted? It's obvious that other guy wasn't buying what you're selling sweetheart but you got another customer right here."

"Selling, no, I am not selling. How can you say that?" Theresa said indignantly.

"You're very sexy when you get your dander up."

"Leave Theresa alone ya creep," Fletcher said to the man.

"Ooh, you got the big man fighting your battles," he turned on Fletcher.

Theresa stepped between Fletcher and the man. "Leave us alone. I do not like to talk to you."

"Oh wow, you're so beautiful, would I like to shoot you," he said as the elevator opened and a large group of people stepped out.

"If you do not leave us alone, maybe you will be the one who is shot," Theresa exclaimed as she pulled Fletcher into the elevator.

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Reid fiddled with his grey tie that complimented his blue and gray striped shirt worn with a charcoal gray suit. "Morgan, I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he said as they sat at a table for four in the upscale eatery decorated tastefully in muted tones of blues, greens and grays. The gray carpet under their feet was soft. The blue tablecloths on the round tables and the blue and green floral upholstery on the chairs added a tranquil atmosphere while the green napkins were a pleasant contrast to the tablecloth. Reid reached out to touch the napkin, expertly folded to provide decoration until it was put to use.

"Relax Reid," Morgan said as the two men sat and waited for the women who were meeting them there.

"That's easy for you to say Morgan. You're used to dating and you've at least seen Cassandra before."

"Don't worry about it man, you'll get on together, I'm sure." Morgan told his friend as he looked up and said, "Here they come now."

Morgan and Reid rose as two women approached the table. Cassandra was a beautiful 5'10" African American whose black hair fell in loose curls from a center part. She wore a red tiered chiffon cocktail dress which featured a cowl neck and flounced sleeves. The skirt ended just below the knee, revealing long shapely legs.

Her companion was a few inches shorter with straight blond hair that had just the hint of a curl at the tip. Her hair barely touched her shoulder and she had a fringe of long bangs that feathered to the right from a side part and went almost to her gray eyes. She wore little makeup other than a touch of pale pink lipstick. She was clad in a black decoratively beaded top that had a low, but still tasteful, vee neck that revealed just the tiniest hint of cleavage. It was partnered with a flared black skirt.

"Derek," Cassandra said as they reached the table, "How are you tonight?"

"Great," Morgan replied. "Cassandra, this is my friend Spencer Reid," Morgan put his hand out in the direction of the two women, "Cassandra Marsden and Phoebe Coulter." Reid gave the women a little wave. The men held the chairs for the women as they sat. "So, Cassandra, make any big sales today?" He turned to Reid. "Cassandra's in real estate."

"The decline in the mortgage rates for the third week in a row must be a bonus in your line of work," Reid said. "Of course it wouldn't help that there's been a lot of default on the adjustable rate mortgages and the record foreclosures because of the economy would tend to make buyers leery wouldn't it?"

Cassandra's eyes perked up at Derek's friend's obvious knowledge of real estate. "Yes, it's a challenge, something of a balancing act."

There was a lull in the conversation as the waitress came to take their orders. Reid said to Phoebe, "Morgan tells me you're a high school teacher."

"Yes, I teach physics and math at Whittier High School," Phoebe said with a shy smile.

"Why you like teaching something like that is beyond me," her friend said. "Why don't you teach something like English?"

"Teaching English has a lot of merit," Reid interjected. "My mother taught English Literature but math and physics are wonderful subjects. Most of the objects we use in our daily lives require the application of the basic laws of physics. When you get into the complex theories, it gets really interesting. And math, well it's not just for accountants or real estate agents, a lot of problems can be conquered by the development of logarithms and mathematical patterns." Reid stopped talking to find everyone at the table staring at him. "Uh, sorry, I…uh get carried away sometimes." He could feel his face turning red and he was thankful for the dim light in the restaurant and the fact that the waitress chose that moment to bring their meals.

After the waitress had left and the foursome began eating their meals, Phoebe said, "I just had an idea, would you be willing to come and speak to my class sometime. I think you could get them excited about math and physics."

"I'm not a very good public speaker," Reid told her, "But, uh sure, if I can get away from the bureau, I'd be happy to."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do fine," she said.

Through the rest of the meal talk centered on the food, restaurants they'd been to and movies they'd seen ending up with a discussion on each other's plans for the weekend. Morgan said if they didn't have a case, he'd like to try out that new nightspot, Vibes. Cassandra said she'd been dying to go as well so they made plans to go together and Reid thought that at least that part of Morgan's plan had succeeded. "Do you want to come as well," Cassandra asked Reid.

"I can't, I'm going to the National Science Fair on Saturday. A young friend of mine has a project entered and I promised him I'd go. I'm really looking forward to seeing his project and all the others. We'll probably have dinner afterwards but thanks anyway."

"I can't believe I forgot that was on this weekend," Phoebe said. "I should go; maybe I could get some ideas on how to help my students."

Morgan looked at Reid and sighed, how could a genius be so dumb, he inclined his head slightly toward Phoebe a couple of times. Reid's eyes grew big, "Oh, uh, you're welcome to come with me, that is, if you want to, I mean, if you weren't going with someone else."

Phoebe looked up at him, "I'd like that."

"You would, I mean, uh that's good," Reid stammered.

"Yeah," Phoebe replied shyly, "It's a date."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Fletcher Bancroft was busy making sure all the components of his project were perfect. The judges had seemed impressed with his project and the answers he had given to their questions so the boy felt he had a very good chance of winning. Not that winning mattered to him in the least. He really wasn't concerned with what the judges or the public thought of his work. Only one person's opinion mattered to him and he was coming to see this project today. For Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, Fletcher would strive for perfection itself.

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Theresa paced in the lobby of the hotel. Agent Reid said he would meet her here before going to the convention centre to see Fletcher's project. The elevator door opened and a man got off. He looked familiar but Theresa couldn't place him. The other elevator opened and a woman got off. Theresa recognized her. She was the lady who did that talk show on TV. The two people approached the front desk almost simultaneously. Theresa continued to pace. Then she saw the man from the other night hiding behind the column again. What was the matter with him? He had something small in his hand but she couldn't make out what it was. He better leave her alone. She wished Agent Reid would hurry. The man wouldn't dare approach her if Agent Reid was here.

David Rafferty cursed Theresa Montoya. As much as he would love to partake of the pleasures of the flesh with her, right now her incessant pacing was blocking his shot of Matthew Blake and Laura Ashburn. He wouldn't get that many chances. Why wouldn't the woman get out of the way? The beautiful Latino looked up to see the guy from the other night coming through the hotel's revolving door. She moved to meet him just as Matthew Blake and Laura Ashburn parted. Damn that woman, if he succeeded in getting her into bed, he'd make her pay for that.

"Hi Theresa," Reid noticed the woman looked upset. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Ches," the woman replied nervously. "Could we go to the coffee shop and talk?" she asked.

"Sure," Reid said and the pair proceeded to the coffee shop where they found a booth. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked after they'd ordered their coffee. "It's something to do with Fletcher?"

"I do not really know how to say this," she said as she looked around as though she was sharing some secret no one should hear.

"Just tell me any way you can," Reid prompted.

"Dr. Bancroft and Ms. Fletcher, they never really talk to me but they talk to each other like I am not even in the room. I hear what they say but it does not seem to matter that I hear because I am really nothing to them." She looked at Reid and he nodded for her to continue. "Anyway, one day they say that it was a mistake to have Fletcher and they had only done it to be covered up."

Reid felt sure something was being lost in the translation; however, he did not want to bombard Theresa with a bunch of questions. He had learned when interviewing witnesses and victims, it was better to let them tell the story. Asking questions sometimes skewed things if you didn't ask just the right one. It often took longer this way, especially with women where he'd had to go through a few 'yes ma'ams' and sometimes a couple of cups of tea, to get the answers he was looking for. "Covered up?" he repeated.

Theresa nodded, "So no one will know they are both happy."

"Why wouldn't they want people to know they're happy?" Reid squinted, this logic escaping him.

"Because they think it will ruin their work if people know that Dr. Bancroft likes only men and Ms. Fletcher likes only women."

"Gay," Reid squeaked. "Fletcher's parents are gay?"

"Ches," Theresa said. "I make up the beds and they do not sleep together."

Reid said quietly, talking more to himself than to Theresa, "So, they got married and had a child just so they could hide the fact of their sexual preference."

Theresa nodded. "Ms. Fletcher does go away on business but not as much as she says. Sometimes she says she is away on business but she really goes to meet a lover, Dr. Bancroft too."

"It's a good thing Fletcher doesn't know about this," Reid said and then looked at Theresa who wouldn't meet his eyes, "Theresa?"

Theresa fidgeted in her seat and played with her paper napkin. "I came out of the dining room the other day when they were talking about it and Fletcher was standing there. I think he heard and you know he is so smart. He never said anything but he has been so quiet and sad. The only thing that has given him any joy is coming here to see you."

So Fletcher knew neither of his parents wanted him, Reid thought. Well he knew what that was like, didn't he. His mother's words played back in his mind, "_At least take Spencer with you." _And his father's curt, "_Good bye."_

"I do not know what to do for him," she said when Reid didn't speak.

"I don't know either Theresa," Reid told her. "But I'm going to do something. I won't let him live like that. I…I have to go to the convention centre. I'll see you later. The three of us will have dinner." He got up and put money on the table for the coffee and left the coffee shop. He wished now that he wasn't meeting Phoebe there. He didn't want to involve her in this.

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The convention centre was buzzing with activity. There were people of all different ages coming and going. Phoebe was waiting just inside the door and waved to him when he entered. "Hi," she said.

"Hi, sorry I'm late. I had a meeting before I came and it took longer than I anticipated," Reid said as he approached her. Today she wore a pair of black jeans with a vee necked sweater featuring large horizontal stripes of light and dark grey over a white blouse. The grey matched her eyes, Reid thought.

"That's okay. I just got here myself," she said as she eyed her date. He looked different than last night. Today he sported beige cords, a brown patterned shirt topped with a brown suede jacket and a purple scarf. Phoebe decided she liked this look better. He seemed more comfortable dressed like this.

They entered the convention hall and were bombarded with science projects from all over the country. All differing age groups were represented. "Wow," Phoebe exclaimed, "These kids have gone to a lot of work. I wish I could get my kids this interested."

Reid agreed as he scanned the huge hall looking for a particular blond head. He couldn't see Fletcher anywhere and he started to panic. Fletcher wouldn't run away because of the problems at home, would he? A tall man by the far left wall stood up from examining a girl's project and he saw Fletcher's blond head. The man had been blocking his view and Reid heaved a sigh of relief. He headed for the boy and Phoebe followed.

"Spencer," Fletcher yelled when he spotted Reid, causing people in the vicinity to turn and look. The boy ran out from behind the table that held his project and ran at Reid who lifted the eight year old into his arms and hugged him close. He didn't care who looked. This child needed some affection and he was going to get it, Reid thought.

"Hi buddy, how're you doing? Let's get a look at that project. Nuclear fusion versus nuclear fission for energy production," Reid said as he examined the models the boy had made to demonstrate both fusion and fission.

Phoebe looked impressed that such a small child would come up with something this elaborate. She watched as Spencer interacted with the boy. It was obvious by the work he'd done that he was a very advanced child which is how Spencer spoke to him, not like he was talking down to a child. He asked the boy interesting and tough questions which the boy answered without hesitation. Spencer did not, however, treat the child like he was a mini adult. Spencer Reid was very cognizant of the fact that this was a little boy, albeit a brilliant one. Phoebe smiled. This was a special relationship, that much was obvious.

Reid turned to his companion. "Fletcher, this is Phoebe Coulter. She teaches math and physics, so she's very interested in this kind of thing." The boy nodded at Phoebe. "We're going to look around at your competition. I told Theresa we'd have dinner after you're done for the day.

"Really," the boy's eyes lit up and Reid nodded. "Okay, I'll see you later."

"That boy really loves you," Phoebe said as they walked away.

"Yeah, well I…uh…really love him too and that's why I may have to do something drastic to save him."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Reid and Phoebe mingled around the convention hall examining the other competitors' work. Each being a scientist, they asked the students probing questions about their projects causing a few of them to look at the couple suspiciously, wondering if they were somehow involved with the judges. Phoebe suddenly veered off to talk to a man she spied across the convention hall floor. They embraced each other, smiling warmly. He was medium height, a little older than Phoebe, Reid thought, and had a head of bushy bright carrot red hair. They talked for quite a while and Reid did not want to intrude on a private conversation. Phoebe eventually looked over at Reid and approached him with the man in tow.

"Spencer, this is a friend of mine, Trevor Langston. Trevor, Dr. Spencer Reid." The men shook hands, each saying he was pleased to meet the other. "Trevor," Phoebe explained about the man with a friendly and, what Reid considered, baby face, "is an old college buddy. He was my physics lab partner. Man, we spent some very late nights together. People were wondering if there was something going on but Trev's like a big brother."

"Do you have a field of specialty or are you a GP Dr. Reid?" Trevor asked.

"Oh, I'm not a physician," Reid replied.

"Are you a teacher too, like Phoebe?" Trevor probed.

"No, actually I'm an FBI agent. I work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I'm what's commonly known as a profiler," Reid explained.

"Oh man, that must be a lot more exciting than teaching science to nine to eleven year olds!" Trevor responded.

"I don't really know about that," Reid said. "I've always had a great deal of respect for what teachers do. It's not an easy job to mold young minds and get the best out of them. I thought of teaching at one point but then this opportunity came along and I have never looked back."

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David Rafferty shifted his eyes around the boring hotel lobby. He'd stared at it so long he'd finally noticed the slightly peachy tint to the beige walls. He even picked up on the metallic thread that ran through the silvery Berber carpeting that had just a hint of the teal color that upholstered the chairs and love seats throughout the lobby. He'd spent a fruitless morning since little Miss Mexico had ruined his best shot of the week; Matthew Blake and Laura Ashburn at the check in desk at a less than high profile Washington hotel. The tabloids would have paid big bucks for that shot. Were they here together? Rafferty didn't know for sure, nor did he care. It was what it looked like that mattered. Neither was checking into their regular hotel. Both came without their spouses. Blake was hardly ever seen without the lovely Sienna, proof of Blake's strong marriage, publicly at least.

Rafferty's head turned as someone came through the revolving door. He recognized the man. He was Marvin Learner, the right hand man of…Rafferty's eyes grew wide. What was he doing here, he thought as he moved his miniscule camera into position.

---------------------------

Reid, Phoebe and Trevor sat at a table in a quiet little restaurant within walking distance of the convention hall to have lunch. They had been discussing some of the projects they'd seen. Trevor had told them he taught at the Weinthorpe Academy in Baltimore. It was apparently a boarding school for gifted children. "I teach mostly nine to eleven year olds but that depends on their intelligence. There are no real grades at Weinthorpe because the kids are so bright; they're skipping grades all the time. So their curriculum is made specifically for them. They get the subjects at the level they're at. Some are savants who are brilliant in only one area so they may take ordinary courses in everything but math which is accelerated because they're a math savant. Physical education classes however are given by age group so nine year olds are only with nine year olds. That goes for the dining room and dormitories as well," Trevor finished before digging once again into his Caesar salad.

Wow, Reid thought, as he chewed on his club sandwich, that place would have been heaven when he was a kid. He wouldn't have had to put up with the bullies. He would have been able to learn at his own pace and he wouldn't have had to put up with his mother's illness. Well, that was all water under the bridge. Why was he thinking of it now. He realized Trevor was talking. "So anyway, a couple of our kids had projects in the fair so I came to see how our little Doogie Howsers fared." Reid winced at the term. He couldn't count the number of times that he'd been called Doogie by some unthinking adult that thought a kid as young as he was being a doctor was the thing a situation comedy was made of. Well technically he supposed he could count the times but it didn't matter. Doogie Howser hadn't been funny to him. It hit too close to home.

"That's enough of me talking about my job," Trevor continued. "What I'm really interested in hearing is about your job Spencer. It must be really exciting!"

Reid thought about that for a moment as he chewed on a French fry. Yes, it was challenging and going out on raids got your adrenaline rushing. Going into a train alone to face a psychotic with hostages and two guns, was that excitement; no he admitted to himself, it was terror mixed with a touch of insanity. Letting your boss kick the shit out of you so you could get his spare piece and have one shot at a psychotic with a room full of hostages and his gun on full auto, was that excitement; no he admitted to himself, it was fear mixed with a touch of heavenly intervention. Being tied to a chair in a shack while another madman in a psychotic break tortured you physically, emotionally and chemically, was that excitement; no he admitted to himself, it was his worst nightmare come to life. He had no fear of nightmares now. He had lived one and come out the other side. His job was many things and excitement was only a miniscule part of it.

What Reid said was, "Yes, it can be very interesting and exciting at times. We try to get into the mind of the criminal to figure out his next move. Sometimes it's just going over mundane details looking for a pattern. If that's what's needed, it usually falls to me because I see patterns more easily than most. We do go on raids and chase down the unsub, unknown subject," he clarified before Trevor could ask. "The traveling is overwhelming at times and jet lag becomes a way of life."

Reid paid the bill and the trio headed back to the convention centre. Reid stopped halfway and said he had to make an important phone call and he would catch up with them. He took a small pad of paper out of his inside pocket and dialed, spoke briefly then hung up and dialed again. He spoke for a long while writing things on the pad. He ended the call and hit speed dial to make a third call. "Hello," said Hotch after the third ring. He sounded out of breath.

"Hotch, are you okay?" Reid asked.

"Oh Reid, hi, yeah, I was just lifting some weights when the phone rang. What can I do for you?"

"Hotch, I need your advice on a legal matter," Reid told him.

"What kind of a legal matter Reid?" Hotch wondered. He certainly didn't expect the answer he got.

"Guardianship of a minor child," Reid responded.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed.

---------------------------

Matthew Blake strode out of the men's room of the hotel restaurant, the door swooshing almost silently closed behind him. He headed straight for the pay phones, not wanting to use his cell. He punched the buttons forcefully, taking out his anger on the only thing at his disposal. Then he stopped and took some deep breaths. He did not want to appear out of control in public. The operator spoke and he deposited some coins in the slot. The phone on the other end was answered on the second ring, "Kelly."

"Eric, we've got a problem."

----------------------

Laura Ashburn sat in the back of her black limousine. The glass barricade separating her from the driver was closed and the disposable cell she'd just purchased was pressed firmly to her ear. "There might be trouble here."

"What kind of trouble?" the voice on the other end inquired.

"Big trouble, David Rafferty, that bottom feeder, is here. I think he saw me with Blake. Get down here right away. We may need some damage control."

------------------------

Marvin Learner put his cell to his ear. Dale Wright answered on the first ring, "Hi Marv, did you check out the hotel?"

"Oh yeah, I checked it out all right," he said as he walked down the street, the sun reflecting off his mirrored sunglasses. "You'll never guess who I saw in the lobby, your old friend, David Rafferty."

------------------------

Theresa waited for the elevator. She'd been to the boutique again and bought another outfit for dinner. She hoped this one would impress Agent Reid. Maybe if she got her hair done in the salon she thought as the doors opened and she stepped in and pressed the button for the third floor. The doors were closing when a hand slid in and pushed them open again, revealing David Rafferty who stepped in allowing the doors to close. She should have gotten out, Theresa thought as the car began to move and Rafferty said, "Well my lovely little enchilada, we meet again."

Theresa kept her eyes down hoping if she ignored the man he would leave her alone but that was not to be she realized when he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "How about we go down to the bar and have a drink? I bet I can show you a far better time than that guy you were with the other night."

Theresa looked at the numbers and was relieved when it finally hit three. "I do not want to have a drink with you. Leave me alone," she said as the doors opened, "or you will be sorry." She hurriedly stepped out of the elevator almost bumping into a couple who had been waiting for the car. "I am sorry," she said as she ran past them to her room.

David Rafferty watched as Theresa went to her room and inserted her key card. "Lovers' spat," he said to the couple. "She'll get over it."

--------------------

"I've got enough problems with Laura Ashburn," Blake said into the phone. "I certainly don't need Rafferty. If I don't agree to give Laura what she wants she's going to expose Sienna. I haven't worked all my life to get where I am to have it all fall apart because of two greedy bitches and a parasitic paparazzo."

---------------------

"Reid, did you say guardianship of a child?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah Hotch."

"Alright Reid, what's going on?"

Reid launched into his story of the situation with Fletcher as told to him by Theresa. He also brought up the Weinthorpe Academy. He'd found out they had scholarships, which he was sure Fletcher could receive if he applied. There were also openings. "Hotch, he's so sad. He just needs someone to care about him. He'd be looked after when I'm away and when I'm home we can see each other."

Reid could hear Hotch sigh into the phone. "Reid, I know you identify with this boy but have you really given this a lot of thought? I mean you only found out about this situation this morning and by noon you want to become his guardian. Isn't that moving a little fast? Think about it, you're a single guy who's away a lot."

"You would think it's sudden wouldn't you? Truth be told, I wanted to grab him and run when we were in San Francisco. I know what it's like to feel so alone. There was no one there for me but I could be there for Fletcher. Is it ideal, no, nothing ever is. But it's a lot better than now. At least Fletcher would know he's here because he's wanted and loved, not because he's an answer to what his parents considered a problem."

----------------------

Theresa paced the hotel room. Why wouldn't that man leave her alone? She would tell Agent Reid, that's what she'd do. She'd tell him at dinner tonight. He would take care of it. He would make sure that man never bothered her again.

---------------------

"You'd need to get the parents' approval," Hotch said finally.

Reid almost laughed. "After what I just told you, do you think that will be a problem?"

"No, sad as it is to say it, it sounds like they'd be glad to be rid of him," Hotch agreed. He thought of how much he wanted to be with his own son. Here he was on his day off, lifting weights in his basement when he should be with Jack. And these people in San Francisco had this wonderful boy right there and wanted nothing to do with him. Life just wasn't fair but then that was nothing new, he thought, he saw it every day.

"I'm going to call and talk to the Bancrofts and then I'll talk to Fletcher to make sure it's what he wants. But from the way he's been clinging to me, I think he'll jump at this idea. I'll talk to you later. Can you draw up any papers I need or know of someone who could?"

"I can draw up the papers for you Reid, that's no problem." He hoped his youngest agent knew what he was getting himself into. Sometimes Reid let his emotions get in the way of logical judgment but, the situation being what it was, Hotch could understand how that could happen. Reid's childhood had left him with many scars and some ran very deep. This boy's problems hit close to home in Reid's heart and he understood the young man's desire to ease this boy's emotional pain and suffering, and even applauded it, but he hoped Reid was ready for the responsibility he was so willing to take on.

------------------------

David Rafferty sat in the hotel's lounge and sipped on his scotch, single malt on the rocks, just the way he liked it. The waitress was an eyeful but nothing like the little Mexican number upstairs in room 321. She seemed immune to his charms but she'd come around eventually, they always did, particularly when she needed to soothe the heartbreak over the tall toothpick that wasn't picking up on her signals. Was the guy nuts? He could have bedded her that first night. Oh well, he wasn't going anywhere. There was lots to keep him busy here, especially since he'd seen Marv Learner. If old Marv was here, Dale Wright couldn't be far behind. The pictures he'd taken of the Christian singer buying marijuana had sent Wright's career into a tailspin but he'd never been caught in possession of the weed so he hadn't been arrested but now a lot of people doubted the born again pop star. Well, he hadn't forced the kid to buy pot; he'd just recorded it in pictures. Pictures didn't lie.

Rafferty looked up as a woman entered the lounge. She was casually dressed in slacks, a tank top and bolero jacket but one couldn't help but notice the expertly styled hair and the flawless makeup. She sat near the back of the dimly lit room and ordered a glass of white wine. Hmm, drinking in the middle of the afternoon. What could be the reason for that? Perhaps because your husband is here with Laura Ashburn, he thought as he looked at the lovely Sienna Blake.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

--------------------------

Reid found Phoebe examining an eighth grader's science project and talking to the student about her work on solar power. "Hi," he said, "where's Trevor?"

"Oh, he met up with some of the faculty from his school and they went off together," the pretty blonde answered. "Lori here," she indicated the twelve year old, "has been telling me about her project."

"Uh…sorry to leave you alone like that," Reid apologized.

"That's okay, I take it it had something to do with the something drastic you might have to do to save your little friend over there." She pointed in Fletcher's direction.

"Yeah it did." He looked at the woman in front of him, her lovely grey eyes full of questions. He'd thought he hated grey eyes after the time they'd spent with Erin Strauss in the field. Her steely grey eyes had been icy cold but Phoebe's were warm and generous. "Would you like to get some coffee?"

---------------------------

"No," Dale said as he alit from his tour bus. "I'm not letting you talk me out of this Marv. This was not my first choice of hotel but, since the other one had a fire, we had to find somewhere to stay and this place had openings. I don't care if David Rafferty is here. I'm not hiding. I've made my peace with my Lord. That's good enough for me." The slightly built 23 year old with windblown wavy light brown hair that framed a handsome face featuring deep blue eyes and a little scruff grabbed some bags as did the rest of his band and they made their way to the hotel entrance.

David Rafferty was just leaving the lounge, pleased with the couple of pictures he'd gotten of Sienna Blake drinking alone in the middle of the afternoon. He was whistling merrily. Maybe today would be a better day he thought as he looked up and saw none other than Dale Wright and his entourage entering the building. Let's revise that last thought, he said to himself, maybe today would be a great day. He raised his miniscule camera and got a few shots of the Christian pop singer whose new single 'He is the Light' was slowly climbing the gospel charts, not racing up them as Wright's earlier songs had, before he'd been photographed buying marijuana.

"Well hello Dale, bought any marijuana lately?" Rafferty said with a chuckle when the entire group was in the building.

-------------------------

Matthew Blake walked into his hotel room to find Sienna sitting in one of the teal, beige and black tweed upholstered chairs by the window. "Really Matthew," she said as she looked around the room, "this is hardly up to your normal standards."

"What are you doing here Sienna?" he said as he strode to the chair and grabbed his wife by the arms pulling her to her feet. "You're supposed to be speaking at universities up north."

"Yes, I know, and you're supposed to be here drumming up support for a campaign bid for the presidency," she said as she shrugged herself free of him. "Does that include secret meetings with Laura Ashburn?"

------------------------

The pair sat with their coffees on a bench outside the convention centre. Reid watched as the light breeze played with Phoebe's hair, blowing it softly around her face. He hesitated for a moment and then launched into the tale of how he'd met Fletcher and the boy's kidnapping at the hands of a serial killer. Phoebe's eyes widened at what Reid was telling her. Oh, that poor child, she thought. He then told her what Theresa had told him that morning, leaving out the exact reason behind Fletcher's parents not wanting him. "When Trevor mentioned the academy, I thought it was the perfect solution. Fletcher could stay out here and go to school and be taken care of when I'm away and when I'm home, I can see him. I think he'd be happy there knowing that someone who loves him and cares about him is close by. My boss thinks I'm rushing into things. What do you think?"

----------------------------

Marvin Learner stepped forward but Dale stopped him with his hand. "Hello Mr. Rafferty, and in answer to your question, no, I haven't. I have no need for it now. My grandfather, who was suffering from prostate cancer that had spread to his liver and lungs, found the pain medication he was receiving wasn't sufficiently helping with his pain. Another patient had extolled the virtues of marijuana for pain control so I bought some to ease the pain of a man who had served both his Lord and his country well. What have you done to serve either Mr. Rafferty? My grandfather went to the Lord in peace and I have made my own peace with our Father over what I did. In the end, it will be up to Him to make the final judgment. I'm confident that, in your final judgment, you'll get exactly what's coming to you Mr. Rafferty." Dale stepped around the man and walked up to the front desk, giving the check in clerk his most winning smile.

----------------------------

Phoebe's eyes had filled with tears. This man was willing to take responsibility for this little boy, just like that, no questions asked. She cleared her throat before she responded. "I think it's an admirable and wonderful idea. Trev is a top notch teacher and I'm sure the others there are too. I saw the way that boy ran to you and hugged you. He obviously loves you very much. A blind person could see that and I think he'd be happy to be close to you. Your boss is probably right when he says it's a lot for you to take on but I think you're likely up to the challenge."

"Thanks Phoebe, I needed to hear somebody say that." He looked at her watery eyes and then down at his coffee cup. "Sorry, I guess this is likely the weirdest date you've ever been on. I didn't mean to get you involved in any of this stuff with Fletcher. I guess it just came up at a bad time."

"That's okay," Phoebe replied. She didn't tell the man beside her that she found it enchanting that he cared more about this young boy's happiness than presenting himself as the perfect date. She'd seen that so often and it got old after a while. Dr. Spencer Reid was totally refreshing.

-------------------------

"These secret meetings are occurring because of you my darling," he said sarcastically as he opened the minibar and poured himself a large scotch. "If you weren't using child labor in the Philippines to make your overpriced clothing instead of unemployed Americans, Laura would have nothing to hold over my head. With her endorsement, it's almost a sure thing my name will be on the ticket come election time."

"We're going to close those factories and move them up here long before the election," Sienna retorted.

"Yeah, well Laura knows about them now and could spring that bombshell at any moment. And we may have another problem." Sienna raised her eyebrows. "David Rafferty is here looking for dirt for those tabloids he works for."

Sienna took the scotch glass from her husband's hand, took a large swig, swallowed and said, "Then we'll have to make sure that doesn't happen."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------------

Spencer Reid held the door as Phoebe Coulter got into her red Ford Focus. She smiled and waved at him as she started the engine and headed out of the convention centre parking lot. Spencer had promised to call her when he was free to talk to her students. She hoped he would call for another reason. She'd give it a little while since he had things on his mind and if he didn't call her then she'd call him. She'd never called a guy before, she thought, but then she hadn't liked a guy this much since…well, she couldn't remember liking a guy this much.

Reid was waiting for Fletcher to be finished for the day and then they would load Fletcher's project in his car and take him back to the hotel. He closed his laptop; there was no time like the present, he thought, to have his conversation with the Bancrofts. He dialed the number while he sat in the front seat of his old Volvo. The phone was answered harriedly on the third ring. "Hello," said an irritated man's voice.

"Hello," Reid replied, "is this Bruce Bancroft?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI."

"Oh yes," Bancroft responded, "Fletcher mentions your name all the time." Well, Reid thought, at least they must listen to him a little bit. His thoughts were interrupted by a curt, "And what is the reason for your call doctor, or is it agent?"

"Either one is fine," Reid replied as he took a deep breath and crossed his fingers. "Theresa has informed me that Fletcher is very unhappy, a fact I can see for myself, because he overheard you and your wife saying it was a mistake to have had him."

"Look Reid," Bruce Bancroft's tone became angrier, "this is really none of your business."

"I understand how you would feel that way but I'm making it my business." Reid was starting to get a little hot under the collar as well, "because I love and care about that boy, something he sorely needs and something you and your wife seem incapable of giving. I understand how he feels because I also felt unwanted as a child and I wouldn't wish that on anyone, especially Fletcher." Reid went on to explain his idea for Fletcher to go to school at the academy in Baltimore. He also told Bruce Bancroft that he was willing to be Fletcher's legal guardian while he was out east. Fletcher would be out of his parents' hair, in effect, out of their lives, which it appeared, was how they wanted it.

Bruce Bancroft was quiet for a moment, considering Reid's proposal. It could work, he thought, and no one would know. They'd just think Fletcher was away at a school that could better accommodate his genius. "I'll have to talk it over with Anise," he said.

"Of course," Reid responded. "I won't mention it to Fletcher until I hear from you. We're having dinner tonight. I have a friend who can draw up all the papers for a legal guardianship."

"I'll talk to my wife right away and get back to you," Bancroft said hurriedly, now that he had warmed up to the idea.

Reid ended the call after giving Bruce Bancroft his number. He pressed speed dial on his phone. The call was answered on the second ring. "Hello," he heard Garcia say brightly.

"Hi Garcia, I need to ask you to do a little favor for me. It requires hacking into a couple of computer systems." Reid outlined what he wanted Garcia to do. "I'll understand if you don't want to do it."

"Piece of cake sweet cheeks."

"Thanks Garcia, I'll get back to you in a while." He ended the call and sat back. He thought he'd presented his case well and after Bancroft considered the pluses he could likely convince his wife. He was actually glad he'd talked to Mr. rather than Mrs. Bancroft. The conversations he'd had with her in the past had not been pleasant.

---------------------

"I'm going down to the coffee shop to get some coffee and a donut," Dale told his band members, "anybody want anything?" He took orders from his bandmates, dismissing the idea of room service. "I sat too long on the bus. I need to move around." He and Marv headed for the door.

------------------------

"I think we should go down to the lobby, maybe grab a coffee. At least we'll be seen together and stop the rumor Rafferty's trying to start in its tracks," Blake said to his wife.

"You're probably right. We should put in an appearance," Sienna agreed, grabbing her designer handbag and following her husband to the door.

--------------------------

Eric Kelly got out of his Mustang convertible and headed for the hotel entrance. As Matthew Blake's main troubleshooter, he wished his boss and his wife wouldn't get themselves into such predicaments.

---------------------------

"I'm glad you're here Stewart," Laura Ashburn said as she came out of the lounge with her right hand man. Stewart Mitchell was a tall, well built man with a fringe of grey hair, a thick mustache to match his hair and bushy eyebrows. His piercing blue eyes looked at Laura as she spoke. "I know you'll take care of everything expertly as usual."

----------------------------

Reid's phone rang just as he was finishing up with an email on his laptop, "Reid."

"Dr. Reid, this is Bruce Bancroft. I've spoken to Anise about your proposal and if you feel that Fletcher would be happier out there then we're in agreement with him attending the academy and we're willing to have you act on his behalf while he's there. It would be difficult for Anise and I from so far away, you understand."

As if you really care about his Fletcher's happiness, Reid thought, before he said, "Yes, Dr. Bancroft, I understand completely. I'll have my lawyer friend draw up the guardianship papers and fax them to you for your signatures and any changes or stipulations you wish to make, of course. You'll probably want Chris Jansen to look over it," Reid added, mentioning the Bancrofts' attorney he'd met in San Francisco. "The papers will also have to be notarized but I'm sure Mr. Jansen can help you with that."

"That would be fine Dr. Reid. We'll look forward to hearing from you shortly." Bruce Bancroft hung up the phone without as much as a goodbye.

Reid speed dialed Garcia. "Hey Garcia, did you check on the computer systems like I asked you to?"

"I sure did sweet cheeks. Neither Bruce nor Anise Bancroft checked out you or the Weinthorpe Academy."

"I thought so," Reid said nodding his head. "How could they send their child off to a place they hadn't even checked out? I checked it out for God's sake. I've been checking out information all afternoon. I had them send a school curriculum, the CV of the faculty, pictures of the dorms, classrooms, gymnasium, including the showers and the dining room to my laptop. I contacted some previous students and some current parents to get their take on the academy. I'd never send Fletcher there without knowing something about the place. And the Bancrofts were willing to give guardianship to a complete stranger, a guy whose voice they've only heard on the phone. It certainly shows how much they care about Fletcher's well being doesn't it?"

--------------------------

Theresa had visited the salon and had her hair styled. She'd even had a little more taken off. The shiny black hair framed her face beautifully, even if she did say so herself. Mrs. Bancroft had given her a credit card, she told herself, and she might as well use it. She felt she'd earned it. She almost couldn't believe the face reflected in the mirrored elevator doors was hers. She smiled at her reflection as she pushed the up button for the elevator.

Laura Ashburn and Stewart Mitchell were entering the lobby from the short hall that led to the lounge just as Eric Kelly opened the door and entered the hotel. "Well, it looks like Matthew brought in the big guns too," she whispered to her companion as Dale Wright and Marv Learner strolled into the foyer from the opposite direction carrying trays with lidded coffees and a box of donuts.

"Wow, my Latin lovely, don't you look gorgeous and very sexy." Theresa turned her head to see David Rafferty had been leaning against one of the pillars in the vestibule, unseen by her or the others in the lobby. He stepped up and put his arm on Theresa's shoulder. "It's only a matter of time," he whispered. "The toothpick doesn't want you but I'll give you a night you'll never forget."

Theresa flinched away from him like she'd been burned. "Stop it," she yelled. "Do not touch me. I do not like you. I do not want anything to do with you. Leave me alone. Do you not hear me? Leave me alone," she repeated as the elevator doors began to open revealing Matthew and Sienna Blake. "Or you'll be so sorry," she finished as she whipped by the exiting couple and into the elevator car.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

------------------------

Reid had finally loaded the last of Fletcher's project into the back of his car. It seemed to take forever. He'd better get used to it, he thought, it was just a small part of his role as Fletcher's guardian. The boy had told him the judges would give their verdict tomorrow and there was an awards ceremony where parents and guests could attend. "Do you think you'll be able to come?" Fletcher had asked. Reid had assured him he wouldn't miss it. A huge grin brightened the freckled face and Fletcher told him he felt confident that he'd done well in a couple of categories. Reid secretly hoped that he would win. It could only help with his acceptance into the Weinthorpe Academy. Reid already had the admission papers in his possession and hoped this turned out to be something the boy wanted.

He wasn't entirely sure when he should tell Fletcher about the plans that had been made while he was at the science fair. Should he tell him at dinner or wait until afterwards. He was excited but his excitement was also tempered with concern about how the boy would respond to his plan. Would he be happy about the two of them being closer to each other or would he be sad that his parents were truly willing to let him go? He guessed he'd play it by ear, he thought as he drove towards the hotel and listened to Fletcher's prattle in the seat beside him. His eyes lit up as he told Spencer about his day and all the people he'd met. "Miss Coulter is a really nice lady, isn't she?" he asked Reid.

"Yes, she's very nice," Reid replied. He had to admit to himself that he hadn't been a very attentive date although she hadn't seemed to mind he mused. After what Theresa had told him that morning it had been difficult to keep his mind off Fletcher. He'd have to try to make it up to her and take her on a real date. Maybe he'd ask her when he went to speak to her class.

----------------------------

Theresa paced the hotel room. Why wouldn't that man quit bothering her? She'd told him over and over she didn't want anything to do with him. He'd better leave her alone. She couldn't go through this again. She'd thought when she came here it would stop. She'd tell Agent Reid and he would take care of it. He would go to the man's room and show him his badge and threaten to arrest him or give him a karate chop or something.

------------------------

"So he tries his moves on this little Latino chick and she screams at him, I mean the whole lobby can hear, 'leave me alone or you'll be sorry,'" Marv laughed as he told the band members about the altercation in the foyer. "I don't imagine he's shakin' in his boots or anything but it was nice to hear someone tell that asshole to f…"

"Marv," Dale called from the other side of the room where he was tuning his guitar, "language!" he said but couldn't stop himself from smirking at the memory of Theresa giving the sleazy paparazzo what he deserved.

--------------------------

"That judge from New York really liked it, I'm sure," Fletcher told Reid as they walked in the door of room 321. "Theresa, we're here," Fletcher called out.

Theresa Montoya stepped out of the bathroom. This evening she was dressed in a black silk chiffon skirt topped with a jacket of pastel pink background with a loopy swirl pattern in black featuring a mandarin collar and black piping. "Wow Theresa, do you ever look pretty," Fletcher said, "doesn't she Spencer?"

"Y…yeah," Reid replied, "you look uh, really nice." Reid grimaced at his own words. Why could he not give a woman a compliment like most men. Morgan would have no problem telling Theresa she looked lovely. Her outfit looked perfect on her and she'd done something to her hair. It really suited her, its shiny blackness a contrast to the pink of her jacket.

Reid's cell rang and he looked at the call display. It was Hotch. He must have the guardianship papers ready. Reid looked at Theresa and Fletcher. He didn't want to talk about it in front of them until he had brought up the subject with them. "I've got to take this. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said as he left the room.

"Maybe it's Miss Coulter," Fletcher told Theresa.

"Who's Miss Coulter?" Theresa asked, taking a bottle of water from the mini bar and taking a sip.

"She's Spencer's girlfriend," Fletcher said as Theresa choked on the water. "Are you okay?" he asked and the young Latino woman nodded. "Anyway she was with him at the science fair. She's really nice, her name's Phoebe, she's got blonde hair and she's really pretty. She's a science te…"

Theresa stared straight ahead; having concentrated on nothing after Fletcher said the word girlfriend. How could she have been so stupid as to think someone like Spencer Reid could care for her? A science teacher, yes he would want a science teacher wouldn't he? She'd be smart enough to speak his language, not some wetback with very little schooling who couldn't even speak English properly. She might as well face the fact that she'd only ever be wanted by men for what they could get from her body like that crude man in the lobby. She saw her reflection in the mirror and suddenly the outfit she'd spent so much time and care on looked like a clown costume. She could see Agent Reid laughing at her for even thinking such a thing. She couldn't speak to him about the man now. On Monday she'd be back in San Francisco, where she belonged, waiting on Mr. Bancroft, Ms. Fletcher and little Fletcher. She could stick it out until then.

----------------------------

"Okay Hotch, thanks for doing that so quickly. I haven't told Fletcher yet. I'm going to tell him tonight after dinner. I don't want him to be in the restaurant with everyone looking at him if he becomes emotional. Once we know how he feels about it we'll send the papers to his parents. If he's really against it, I don't want to force him. I'll talk to you later. Bye," Reid closed his cell and headed back to the room.

-----------------------------

David Rafferty watched the beautiful Latino as she had dinner with the kid and the toothpick again but something seemed different. She wasn't talking as much as she had the other night. The kid was doing most of the talking with commentary from the toothpick. Theresa looked around the restaurant and noticed his eyes on her. She glared at the man and reached for her second glass of wine.

-----------------------

The threesome arrived back at the room after dinner. Fletcher seemed pleased that Reid wasn't going straight home which boded well for his plan, he thought. "Fletcher," he said as the boy jumped one of the two beds that furnished the room, "I wanted to talk to you about something." The boy gave his full attention to the young profiler while Theresa sat in one of the chairs by the window, Reid sat on the edge of bed Fletcher sat on. "Yesterday, Theresa told me that you'd overheard something that your parents had said and you were upset."

"Oh you mean that it was a mistake to have me and they don't want me?" the boy said in a matter of fact statement.

"Yeah that," Reid paused for a moment, choosing his words. "I was upset when I first saw you because you seemed so sad. I hate to see you that way." He paused again. "But you seemed happy when we were together. We've always gotten along really well, haven't we?" The boy nodded and Reid could see his sharp mind was wondering where this was going. "I thought it would be better if we could see each other more often." Fletcher's eyes widened and he smiled, nodding eagerly.

"There's a school, it's a boarding school, for very advanced kids in Baltimore. That's not that far from here," Reid continued.

"The distance between Washington DC and Baltimore, Maryland is 38 miles," Fletcher confirmed.

"Anyway, I checked out the school. It's very nice. One of Phoebe's friends teaches there and I met him at the science fair." At the mention of Phoebe, Theresa turned her face away from the man and the boy and looked out the window, trying to concentrate on the street below and not a pretty, smart blonde named Phoebe.

"I wondered if you might like to go there. I've talked to your dad and your parents are willing to let you go there and while you're out east, I'll be your guardian, basically a stand in for your parents. I'd make all the decisions while you're here and we'd be able to see each other a lot more often." He paused again and held his breath. "What do you think?"

It didn't seem the boy gave it any thought at all. "I want to do it. I want to go to school here so I can see you." Fletcher threw himself into Spencer's arms. "I love you Spencer."

"I love you too buddy," he said as he hugged the boy.

---------------------

Fletcher was at last asleep. He had been so excited after his day at the science fair and Spencer's news had only added to it but eventually his breathing became slow and even, exhaustion finally taking its toll.

Although Spencer and Fletcher had been very happy over the idea of Fletcher coming to Baltimore to go to school, Theresa wondered what that move would mean for her. The others in the house rarely spoke to her. What made it livable was having Fletcher there. She could care for him like his parents didn't. Now that would be gone. She'd like to move on to a different job but she got paid so little by the Bancrofts that even if she did get a job, she doubted she could scrape up the money for a damage deposit on an apartment. And who wants to hire an uneducated, unskilled Mexican when there are lots of Americans unemployed.

She didn't like the look of her future at all, she thought as she took one of the small bottles of scotch from the mini bar. Theresa wasn't normally a drinker but if there was ever a night, this was it. If she had a hangover in the morning, Spencer could come and start fulfilling his duties as Fletcher's guardian. "Maldijo," she whispered as she poured the bottle into a glass and looked in the empty ice bucket. She took a sip and scrunched up her face. She didn't really like the taste of the stuff that much in the first place, but without ice, yuck. Oh well, she'd just go down the hall and get some. She opened the door and looked out into the hallway. No one was there to see her clad in only the thick terrycloth robe supplied by the hotel. She tiptoed quickly down the hallway to the ice machine and filled her bucket and tiptoed back. "Maldijo," she cursed again. Today was just not her day, she thought as she realized she'd forgotten her key card. She knocked on the door trying to wake Fletcher but when he didn't answer she figured he was dead to the world. Oh well, she'd just have to go down to the lobby and get them to let her in. She looked down at her attire but there was nothing she could do about it now. Ice bucket in hand she headed towards the elevator. She saw a man's foot in the door; he must have seen her coming. "Thank you for holding," she said as she approached the elevator door and pushed it open. Theresa didn't hear herself scream. She didn't hear the full ice bucket hit the carpeted floor. The only thing her mind could comprehend was the blood spattered elevator as she looked into the cold dead eyes of David Rafferty.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: If I may be allowed a personal moment, I would like to dedicate this chapter in loving memory of my mother who passed away on April 9th three years ago. She was the woman who insisted a few years back that I get a computer when I said, "What in the world would I ever do with a computer?" She maintained that everybody else had one and I should too. Needless to say, to placate her I got a computer. Little did I know that the writing I would do and the wonderful people I would meet on this site would end up being my solace since her passing. She loved Criminal Minds and yes, Reid was also her favorite character. She'd get a blast out of this! I guess mother does know best.

Now on with the story…

--------------------------

Theresa didn't hear the footsteps of her fellow hotel guests as they tramped down the hallway, at least the sound refused to register in her mind; however she was soon surrounded by curious onlookers. One woman looked at the body and turned her head away in disgust and horror, the color draining from her face, as the sight before her sunk in. She leaned on her husband for support, sure that at any moment her knees would buckle. Another man pulled out his cell and dialed 911. The woman's husband looked at the dead man with recognition and turned to Theresa, "Hey, that's the guy who was with you in the elevator earlier today," he said to the young Latino who still hadn't moved, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. "He said you'd had a lovers' spat."

His words seemed to sink into Theresa's consciousness. "That is not true," she replied, "I do not know him. We were not lovers."

"Then why were you so angry with him?" the wife asked.

"I only wanted him to leave me alone."

"Looks like you got your wish," the man with the cell interjected.

At that moment the door to room 321 opened and a little blonde head, tousled from sleep, peeked out, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Theresa was standing in front of the elevator in her robe with a bunch of people around her. "Theresa what happened," the freckled faced youngster asked as he started to exit the room.

"No, no Fletcher," Theresa ran back towards the room, "you must stay there." She followed Fletcher into the room, away from the crowd at the elevator.

-----------------------------

The whole hotel was on alert by the time sirens could be heard and a squad car followed by an unmarked screeched to a halt in the parking lot. Stan Westin, head of hotel security, met the police as they entered the lobby. The middle aged man with sandy brown hair and green eyes that had seen too much and lay hidden behind wire rimmed glasses, introduced himself as Detective Dan Dryden. The names displayed on the officer's uniforms designated the pudgy balding man as Kelso and his partner, a tall, well built black man with chiseled features as Officer White. "My men have secured the floor. No one's been allowed in or out. We'll have to take the stairs." He directed the police towards the stairwell.

"Can you tell me what happened, Mr. Westin?" Dryden asked.

"One of the guests found the deceased in the elevator. He'd been shot, I'd say from the amount of blood, in the heart," Westin relayed as they climbed the two flights of stairs to the third floor. A crowd of people could be seen around the elevator as the men arrived at their destination. A security guard stood by the door and nodded at his boss and the other three men as they proceeded down the hallway. The elevator door was now held open with a key one of the security guards had inserted for that purpose.

"Has anyone touched anything?" Dryden asked as he bent over the body. Blood had gushed from a gunshot wound to the chest onto the floor of the elevator while some had splattered on the walls.

"Not that I know of sir," Westin replied and the people in the crowd shook their heads.

Dryden looked around the floor but there were no shell casings to be found. They heard the door at the end of the hall opening and two CSU techs arrived carrying what looked like heavy bags. He greeted the techs who set their bags down, opened them, donned latex gloves and began to get out their cameras. "What's with the ice?" Dryden asked as he looked at the melting cubes.

A woman who was standing next to a man that had his arm around her answered, "I think the woman who found the body dropped it in shock."

"Who did find the body?"

The people in the crowd pointed to room 321. "The woman from room 321," Stan Westin clarified, "her name is," he consulted a piece of paper, "Theresa Montoya."

Detective Dryden nodded and walked over to room 321 and knocked on the door. A few moments later it was opened by a petit Latino woman, no more than 5'4" he figured. She had black hair that went almost to her shoulders and dark, almost black eyes. She was remarkably beautiful. "Miss Montoya," he said, and the woman nodded. He pulled out his badge and flashed it at her. "Detective Dryden, metro PD. I understand that you found the body. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions."

Theresa looked warily at the man. He'd made his request sound like a question but Theresa suspected there'd be trouble if she refused. The policía back home were mostly corrupt and a law unto themselves. She'd hoped it was different here. She nodded and opened the door for the man to enter. Theresa had traded her robe for a pair of chinos and a tank top. Her feet were bare.

Dan Dryden surveyed the room. He took in the two beds, one it appeared had already been slept in and on it sat a young boy clad in pajamas. On the table in front of the window sat a glass, half full of golden brown liquid and beside it one of the bottles from the mini bar, empty. Hence the trip to the ice machine, Dryden considered.

"You went out of the room to get ice?" Dryden asked.

"Ches, that is right," Theresa nodded.

"Where do you work Miss Montoya?"

"I work for Fletcher's parents," she indicated the boy, "in San Francisco."

"What brings you to Washington?"

"We came because Fletcher had a project in the science fair. His parents could not come with him so they send me."

"If you just went out for ice, why did you go to the elevator? The ice machine is at the other end of the hall."

"I realize when I get back to the room that I forget my key card. I knocked on the door but Fletcher was sleeping and did not hear me so I decided to go down to the desk and get them to let me in. When I get to the elevator, I saw him."

"Did you see anyone in the hallway or near the elevator?" he asked.

"No senor, I did not see anyone. I saw his foot in the door as I was coming near the elevator and I thought he was holding it for me. It was not until I got there that I saw…him."

"Did you touch anything, Miss Montoya?"

"No, why would I want to touch him?" she grimaced. "I think I screamed and dropped the ice bucket. Then people came and were standing around. The noise must have woken Fletcher and he came to the door," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I did not think he should come out there and see that so I came back to the room."

"Okay, that's all for now. If we need to talk to you again, we'll be in touch." Theresa closed and locked the door behind him.

When Dryden returned to the elevator, Officer Kelso whispered something in his ear. "Okay, I'll talk to them," he told Kelso and proceeded to follow the man.

-------------------------

Theresa opened the door to find Detective Dryden standing there once again. "If you don't mind, Miss Montoya, I'd like a few more words with you," he said as he entered the room. "It has been reported that you had had altercations with the decedent on no less than three occasions."

Theresa looked at the detective, the confusion evident on her face, "Alter…deced…" she shook her head.

"Fights with the dead guy," Fletcher explained from the bed causing Dryden to turn his head and look at the boy in surprise.

"In one of the altercations, it was recalled that you said something like," he consulted his notebook "maybe you'll be the one who's shot."

"No, but I did not mean…"

"Officers Kelso and White are interviewing the witnesses to the various altercations and I'm told there are quite a few. I think you better come down to the precinct with me for questioning Miss Montoya."

"No," Theresa backed away from the man. "I have done nothing."

"Miss Montoya, please don't make this more difficult than it has to be. We just want to ask you some questions. You don't want us to have to cuff you in front of the boy do you?"

"What about Fletcher?"

"We'll take him to the precinct with us and we can have someone from social services take charge of him."

"I better go get changed," Fletcher said as he got up and headed for the bathroom with his jeans and a tee shirt. When the bathroom door closed behind him he pulled his cell out of the pocket of his jeans and hit speed dial. When the call was answered, he whispered, "Spencer, they're taking Theresa to the police station. They think she killed somebody. You gotta come quick!"


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-------------------------

"Fletcher, what are you talking about?" Reid asked after the boy's revelation.

"Theresa found a dead guy in the elevator and now the police are blaming her and taking her in for questioning. I have to go too because there's no one to look after me. I think she's really scared," Fletcher informed him.

Reid didn't doubt that Theresa was terrified. He remembered the look of fear on her face when they'd first come to the door of the Bancroft home in San Francisco. "Okay Fletcher, listen to me carefully. Tell Theresa not to say anything to the police. She won't get in trouble if she doesn't talk to them. Tell her only to say that she wants a lawyer. I'm on my way." Reid ended the call and pressed speed dial.

Detective Dryden led Theresa and Fletcher out to the cruiser and put them in the back seat. "I'll meet you at the precinct," he told Kelso and White.

From the back seat Fletcher observed the two officers in the front seat, thought for a moment, and made a judgment call. He turned to Theresa and said in perfectly accented Spanish, "Spencer dijo que no dijera nada a la policía. Solo pide un abogado. Spencer este in camino.

"Lo llamaste?" the surprised woman replied in her native tongue.

"Si cuando estaba en el baño cambiándome. No te preocupes, todo va a estar bien." He reached over and his small hand grabbed hers and squeezed it.

"What are they saying?" Desmond White asked his partner.

"Beats me," Eddie Kelso replied as he steered the squad car through the Washington traffic. "Do I look like I speak Spanish?"

The two cars parked outside the precinct among other black and whites and unmarkeds and officers White and Kelso led Theresa into the building. Fletcher still held tight to her hand. "Take her to interrogation room one," Detective Dryden ordered as he entered the precinct behind the others. "Kid," he addressed Fletcher, "you'll have to sit over here." He pointed to some chairs and then yelled, "Somebody call DCFS and get someone down here to take charge of this kid."

"That won't be necessary Detective Dryden," Fletcher said as he sat on one of the chairs.

Dryden eyed the child suspiciously for the second time that evening. What was with this kid? He didn't look scared. He wasn't wide eyed. He seemed to be taking the situation pretty much in stride. "Forgive me if I think it is," the detective said finally.

"Suit yourself," Fletcher muttered, more to himself than to the detective. Fletcher surveyed the precinct. It was much like the one he'd been in in San Francisco. He supposed they were much the same in any city. Phones rang almost continually, officers spoke to people at their desks. Sometimes they would drag someone in handcuffs by him.

Theresa was seated in a small room with a table and two uncomfortable straight backed chairs. There was a large mirror on one wall across from where she sat. Dan Dryden stood looking through the two way mirror at the beautiful Latino woman who sat there. He could see her fidget in her chair and he saw her rest her hands on the table in an effort to stop them trembling. Yep, little Miss Theresa Montoya was very afraid; he smiled as he opened the door with a cup of coffee and a pad of paper in his hands. He sat on the other chair with his back to the mirror. "Okay, Miss Montoya, let's begin shall we?"

"I…I want a lawyer," Theresa said, her shaky voice betraying her fear.

"Miss Montoya, you don't need a lawyer. You're not under arrest. All we want to do here is talk," Dryden said in his best calming voice.

Fletcher had said that Spencer said not to say anything and just ask for a lawyer. Again she said, "I want a lawyer."

"Listen sweetheart," he said condescendingly and Theresa grimaced. She hated when men called her sweetheart, "I'll talk. I have officers at the hotel talking to all those people who saw your altercations with Mr. Rafferty. A lot of people witnessed how incensed you were with him and heard the verbal threats you made against him, but I mean, I know things aren't always the way they appear and there's probably some straightforward explanation, that if you would just tell me about, you might be released in no time. Otherwise we're going to have to scrutinize those other people's statements in intricate detail and I'm sure they don't know the whole story, do they?"

Theresa was quiet, thinking of her meetings with David Rafferty they had said his name was, she hadn't even known. There had been people in the lobby both times she'd yelled at him and she had run into that couple waiting for the elevator. What were they all saying about her? Did they actually think she killed this man? Maybe if she told the detective the truth he would let her go. She thought about the policía back home. She didn't trust them. How did she know she could trust this man. The answer was simple she told herself. She didn't know if she could trust him. But she knew she could trust Spencer Reid. For a third time, sitting up straighter in her chair and with all the boldness she could muster, Theresa said, "I want a lawyer."

The detective heaved a huge sigh as if he were a teacher trying to explain a complex concept to a student that was just not getting it. "Miss Montoya, let me reiterate, you are not under arrest. If you were under arrest you would have been properly mirandized, however, since you haven't been placed under arrest, I mean, we didn't handcuff you did we, the Miranda warning which says you have the right to remain silent and have an attorney present during questioning doesn't apply. Now, like I said, officers are questioning people at the hotel and some of them are very important people that the judge is likely to believe if it comes to that. You don't want it to come to that do you, Miss Montoya?"

"But…but Spencer said…"

Detective Dryden sighed again in exasperation, "Who the hell is Spencer?"

"He's…" Theresa began when there was a loud rap on the door. It opened and Officer Kelso stood there with two men behind him. One had dark hair and eyes, clad in a black suit with a very stern expression on his face. The man behind him was younger, dressed in beige cords, a brown and white pattered shirt topped with a brown jacket. He had a mess of brown hair.

"These men are here about Miss Montoya," Kelso informed him.

Hotch and Reid both pulled out their badges. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner and this is Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid. We're here with regards to Miss Montoya."

"This is just a simple homicide. I don't know what the feds have to do with it," Dryden protested.

"How simple it is," Hotch stated, "remains to be seen. Oh, I forgot to mention, I'm also an attorney and I will be acting on Miss Montoya's behalf. So all questioning of my client stops now. I'd like to talk to my client," Hotch and Reid entered the interrogation room. Reid switched off the audio feed. There was silence in the room as Hotch's dark eyes stared into Dryden's green ones. Dryden eventually turned and swiped his coffee and pad of paper from the table and stomped angrily from the room. Reid closed the door silently behind him.

Theresa had looked confused when Agent Hotchner entered the room but the confusion quickly changed to relief when she saw Spencer. "Hi Theresa," Reid said, "you remember Agent Hotchner." Theresa nodded, still looking confused at the other agent's presence.

"Yes, hello," Theresa responded.

"Theresa, as well as being an agent, Hotch is also a lawyer. He's going to look after your case."

"Gracias, Agent Hotchner. Thank you so much."

"First of all," Hotch said sitting down, "why don't you call me Hotch, everyone does. I'm going to get you to tell me what happened between you and David Rafferty and tonight's events."

Reid turned to leave the room. "You can stay Spencer," Theresa offered.

"Actually, he can't. If you tell me something in front of another person, our communication is no longer privileged. If you choose to tell Reid afterwards, it's up to you, although anything you tell him won't be privileged." Reid turned and left the room while Theresa relayed what had happened that evening and during the last couple of days between David Rafferty and herself.

Dryden strode angrily into the squad room. How had the woman contacted these men? She hadn't been out of his sight since he'd entered her hotel room and she hadn't made any phone calls. The only time he'd been away from her was when she'd been in the squad car and Kelso and White wouldn't have allowed her to make a call. He looked around the precinct for the men and found them sipping coffee near the vending machine. No, they informed him, Montoya had made no phone calls. She and the kid had talked in the back seat but they'd done so in Spanish so the two officers had no idea what had been said.

Dryden turned and eyed the innocent looking little blond headed, freckled face youngster that was talking to Moira James from DCFS. The kid, he'd made the call from the bathroom, that was the only answer and then he'd warned Montoya in Spanish so White and Kelso couldn't understand. He'd underestimated the kid. The little bastard had pulled one over on all of them.

Reid found Fletcher talking to a woman from DCFS. "I told you I don't need to go to a foster home for the night." Reid heard the boy say.

"He's right, Reid said as he came up behind the pair. He flashed his badge. "Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, I'm also the legal guardian for Fletcher Bancroft. He reached into the inside pocket of his brown jacket and produced the papers Hotch had made up earlier and they had quickly faxed to the Bancrofts for their signature.

"Fletcher looked at Detective Dryden who had witnessed the exchange. "I told you it wouldn't be necessary," he said, leaving the bewildered and angry detective walking away, shaking his head.

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Senator Tom Bishop's aide walked into his office. "There's been some trouble at the Comfort Inn Downtown." He went on to explain about the murder of David Rafferty.

"Well I can't say I'm surprised someone finally killed one of those sleazy gossipmongers," the senator replied.

"They've arrested some Latino woman but I thought you might be interested in the cast of characters in this little drama." He handed his boss a piece of paper. "And," he added, "my source at the police station tells me none other than Aaron Hotchner of the BAU showed up at the precinct to act as this woman's attorney!"

"Really, that is interesting, thanks Graham, that'll be all for now." Once the young man had left the office, Bishop's phone rang and he picked it up on the first ring. "So what can I do for you?" he said into the mouthpiece after the speaker had identified himself. He listened to the speaker for a few moments. "Really, I'll see what I can do." He hung up the phone and pushed his intercom, "Marlene, get me Erin Strauss over at the FBI."

--------------------

Translations:

Spencer dijo que no dejera nada a la policía. Solo pide un abogado. Spencer este en camino.—Spencer said not to say anything to the police. You won't get in trouble. Just ask for a lawyer. Spencer is on his way.

Lo llamaste?—You called him?

Si, cuando estaba en el baño cambiándome. No te preocupes, todo va a estar bien.—Yes, when I was in the bathroom changing. Don't worry, it'll be okay.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Theresa relayed to Hotch the gist of her run ins with David Rafferty. "The first night I saw him he said he wanted to shoot me. I did not know the man. Why would he want to shoot me?"

"Theresa, Rafferty was a photographer. He took pictures of famous people, usually when they were doing something they'd rather others didn't see. When he said he wanted to shoot you, he meant he wanted to take your picture, probably because you're very beautiful," Hotch explained.

"Oh," Theresa looked chastised. "I did not know that."

"That's okay and that's no reason for him to have spoken to you in that way. You shouldn't have had to put up with his unwanted advances," Hotch continued. "What did you mean when you said he'd be sorry?"

"I was going to tell Spencer. I thought maybe he could show him his badge and scare him so he would leave me alone."

"Why didn't you?"

Theresa paused for a moment. She didn't want to tell Agent Hotchner that she'd been upset because Spencer had a girlfriend, instead she said, "He was telling Fletcher about school and being his guardian. They were both so happy; I didn't want to spoil it." Well, it was partly the truth, she considered.

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"You okay bud," Reid asked Fletcher as they waited while Theresa and Hotch talked.

"Yeah, I'm worried about Theresa. She's so scared of the police. How can they think Theresa would hurt anybody? That guy was such a creep Spencer. He came right up to her and wanted her to go out with him. He said the toothpick, I think he meant you, wasn't buying what she was selling but he'd show her a good time. He told her she'd have to ditch the kid, meaning me."

Had Theresa worn that nice dress for his benefit…he hadn't thought about…women didn't usually…maybe he'd talk to Morgan. "I've heard he wasn't a stellar guy," was all he said to Fletcher.

There was silence between the two for a few moments and then Fletcher said, "So you got the papers, huh?"

"Yes," Reid said, "we rushed them through so there would be no question when I got here that I was your legal guardian."

"Can I see them?" the boy asked.

Reid thought about it for a moment and then pulled the papers from his pocket and handed them to Fletcher who read them over until he reached the signatures on the last page, his parents' and Spencer's. There could be no denial anymore. There it was in black and white, the hastily scribbled signatures of Bruce Bancroft and Anise Fletcher that had effectively handed his care over to someone else, albeit the person he'd most want to be with but nonetheless, not his parents. They really didn't want him. Fletcher was surprised when his eyes filled with tears as the truth sunk in and he closed them tightly in an attempt to stem the flow but some escaped from beneath his long lashes and ran down his cheeks, betraying his pain. He shouldn't be crying he thought, not now, not when Theresa needed him. He wiped a hand across his cheek and handed the papers back to Reid.

-----------------------

Hotch exited the interrogation room in search of Detective Dryden. His determined stride and the scowl on his face told all those in his way that Dryden would not be happy when he found him. The detective was at his desk near the front of the precinct. "I want an explanation why when my client asked for a lawyer, not once, not twice but three times, questioning was not stopped."

"Look Agent Hotchner, you know how it is in our line of work. You must interrogate suspects all the time."

"I don't interrogate them once they ask for a lawyer."

"Look, little Miss Mexico wasn't under arrest. I was just questioning her. I'm sure you're well aware of the correlation between the person finding the body and the murderer."

"Since you don't appear to have any evidence to hold my client, you'll be releasing her," Hotch said more as a statement than a question.

"I don't think so," the detective replied smiling with some satisfaction. "Our investigation is ongoing and," he put his hand up as Hotch was about to speak, "we have the right to hold her for 48 hours without charges. Since the woman is a long way from home with no ties here, I consider her a major flight risk, so I think I'll avail myself of the option to hold her for 48 hours."

"Commissioner Wallingford will be hearing from me regarding your blatant disregard for Miss Montoya's rights."

"Little Miss Montoya isn't even a citizen of the United States," Dryden responded angrily.

"She's a legal immigrant and she has the same rights as any other citizen and I don't appreciate your obvious racist and discriminatory attitude toward her."

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"Erin, there's a chance that Rafferty has pictures of us," Bishop said into the phone.

"Tom, it's not like we were doing anything illegal. We were just talking."

"I know that but it's not what it is but how it looks that matters. It wouldn't look good that we're in bed together, metaphorically speaking. Everyone knows your political aspirations."

"So what would you have me do Tom?"

"I'm going to talk to Jack Wallingford. Two members of Agent Hotchner's team are already involved. Because of the sensitivity of this case, I'm going to strongly suggest he ask the BAU to handle the case. He's got political aspirations too, you know. Perhaps your team would be more sensitive in handling information about their section chief."

There was no love lost between her and Hotchner's team, however, Tom was right, she thought, they'd probably look after one of their own even if it was someone they didn't really like. "Okay, get back to me after you talk to Wallingford."

----------------------------

"No, no, I cannot stay here. I have done nothing wrong. Why do they not believe me?" Theresa asked when Hotch told her about the 48 hour hold over.

"I'll do my best to get to the bottom of it as fast as I can," Hotch promised but with Detective Dryden in charge, he had his doubts about how he'd accomplish it.

"What about Fletcher?" Theresa asked through her tears.

"He's with Reid. Reid will take good care of him," Hotch told her.

"Can I see him?" she asked.

"I'll see if I can arrange it," Hotch turned and left the room.

He returned a few moments later with Fletcher and Reid in tow. The boy ran to Theresa and hugged her close. "Don't worry Theresa; it's going to be okay." The boy caressed the woman's cheek.

Theresa nodded, "You be a good boy, okay?" she said tearfully.

"I will, you'll be out of here before you know it." He hugged her again when someone came to take her to lock up.

Hotch pulled his cell out and dialed the number for the commissioner. When the call was answered, he said, "Commissioner Wallingford, SSA Aaron Hotchner calling in regards to Detective Dryden's blatant mistreatment of my client, Theresa Montoya."

"I'm glad you called Agent Hotcher," the man said, to Hotch's surprise. "It saved me calling you. I want the BAU to take over this case."

"You want us to take the case of a single homicide?" Hotch was confused.

"Considering the victim's line of work, it might not end up being a simple case, if Miss Montoya is not the perpetrator. Also, since you and Dr. Reid are already involved, it makes sense for your unit to handle it. You can coordinate with Detective Dryden." Hotch was sure Dryden would love that. At least the team could make sure Theresa wasn't railroaded.

He ended the call and hit speed dial, "Dave, get Morgan, Prentiss and JJ together. We've got a case…"


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Happy Easter to all who celebrate!

------------------

Morgan and Rossi were examining the body of David Rafferty in the elevator of the Comfort Inn. The coroner's van and the hotel staff were waiting rather impatiently for the okay to remove the corpse. They thought they'd had it until the call had come that members of the BAU were coming and to leave the body where it was. Craig Newman, the hotel manager, was getting a bit anxious. This was not good for business. They needed to get that body out of here as soon as possible. Didn't these FBI agents understand that? "Reid once told me there were six elevator related deaths per year," Morgan said.

Rossi never took his eyes off the body he was crouched beside. "He'd know wouldn't he, although I don't think this was quite what he had in mind. The gunshot was well placed," he pointed to just left of the centre of their victim's chest, "straight to the heart. That doesn't just happen by the elevator doors opening and Rafferty happening to be there. The killer was lying in wait for him and Rafferty didn't have the time to react. From the size of the wound opening, it looks like a 9mm. No shell casings, the killer knew enough to take them with him or her."

"How could they seriously think Theresa did this?" Morgan postulated. "She obviously didn't have a weapon when she flew here so where would she get one? I'm sure she wouldn't go to a gun shop which requires a background check and I'm sure she doesn't know enough about Washington to be able to buy a piece on the street."

"It's obvious that one of the people who overheard the altercations between Rafferty and Theresa, set it up to look like Theresa did it."

"But how would they know she'd come out for ice, forget her key card and find the body?"

"They wouldn't," Rossi agreed, "that was just dumb luck but they killed him when the elevator got to the third floor and whose room just happens to be on the third floor?"

-------------------

Prentiss and JJ were going through David Rafferty's room. "He'd make Oscar Madison look like a neat freak," Emily said. Clothes were strewn haphazardly throughout the room and papers were everywhere listing the comings and goings of people like Matthew and Sienna Blake, Laura Ashburn and Dale Wright.

JJ found a stack of DVDs by the television, most of them explicit porn. "Charming," JJ remarked.

"Here's his camera," Prentiss said as she picked up the expensive piece of equipment with her gloved hands. She began scanning through the pictures as Rossi and Morgan entered the room. "A picture or two of Matthew Blake, some of his wife Sienna in the bar; some of Laura Ashburn but nothing really incriminating or embarrassing. There're a few here of Dale Wright, that gospel singer whose career took a nosedive after Rafferty published photos of him buying marijuana. There're also a few here of Theresa and whoa, hold on a minute!"

"What, what is it?" Morgan asked.

"Is that who I think it is?" she asked showing Morgan the image on the camera.

"Strauss," Morgan said, "David Rafferty's got a picture of Erin Strauss with, is that Senator Bishop?"

"It is," Emily replied.

"What are those two doing together? I'm sure Bishop's not with her for her great looks," Morgan said sarcastically.

"Or her scintillating personality," JJ added.

"Well," Rossi said as he snapped on his blue gloves, "I think we just found out why we're on this case."

--------------------

Fletcher and Reid entered his apartment about an hour after seeing Theresa. Hotch had informed Reid that they had the case which pleased the young profiler because it meant Theresa's fate was not in the hands of Dan Dryden who, it seemed, had already pronounced Theresa guilty. What he couldn't figure out was why they had the case. This wasn't the type of case the team usually handled. There had to be a reason they'd been called in. Reid was lost in these thoughts when he realized Fletcher was speaking.

"Wow, have you ever got a lot of books," Fletcher stood in awe of the massive floor to ceiling bookcases that took up every available wall and were filled to overflowing.

"Yeah, well, I read a lot," Reid said as he locked the door and set the alarm.

"I bet you'd rather be with your team working on the case than stuck here with me," the boy surmised as he sat on the cream colored sofa that looked like corduroy but was very soft to the touch. A matching ottoman, almost as long as the couch itself, sat in front of it serving as both a coffee table and a comfortable footrest. At the moment, however, it served as a place for Reid to sit so he could face Fletcher while he talked to him.

"That's not true. Yes, I would like to help Theresa's situation if I can but I also want to be here for you." He scrutinized the boy closely but Fletcher refused to look at him. "Even though you're very young, I showed you those papers because I knew with your intellect you'd understand what was written there. But, understanding logically and understanding emotionally are two different things aren't they?" The boy nodded. "I know you knew it was coming but it was pretty hard to finally see it." Again the boy nodded.

"I know something of what you feel. My dad left my mother and me when I was ten. My mother is mentally ill and her condition was deteriorating. She pleaded with my dad to take me with him but he just said good bye and walked away. I felt really unwanted. My mom wanted my dad to take me but my dad didn't want me either. I've come to realize through the years that it wasn't that my mom didn't want me, it was that she knew, with her illness, she couldn't be a good mother to me. I know she loves me."

Fletcher was now looking at Reid, compassion filling his blue eyes. "The situation with your mom and dad is a little different," Reid began. "You know what gay is, right?"

"That's when you like people who are the same sex as you."

Reid nodded, paused for a moment then said softly to the boy, "Your mom and dad are gay."

"But they can't be. They got married. They had me," the boy protested.

"I know that, but it doesn't negate the fact that they're gay. Some people try to hide it because they think some people, narrow minded people, will look at them differently and it could affect their life and their work. That's what your parents thought. They thought if they got married and had a child no one would know and it worked pretty well. Your parents excelled at their jobs, they had this beautiful bright little boy and everything looked great…on the surface. The only thing is, is that they've been living a lie, hiding who they really are and I think it's made them bitter. I don't think they were saying it was a mistake to have you. I think the mistake is that they're each trying to be something, someone they're not." The words of Nina Moore on the witness stand came back to him. "You can't live two lives."

"Do you think I'll be like them?"

"No, I don't. There's no evidence that homosexuality is genetically passed."

"Maybe I am," the boy insisted.

"Why would you think that?" Reid asked.

He put his head down. "Lindsay Crandall kissed me once and I thought it was gross."

"You're eight years old!" Reid scoffed. "Of course you're going to think it's gross. You don't start liking it until you're a little older but, say you're right, say you're gay. I will be no less happy to be with you and no less proud of you. You hear me?"

"I hear you," the boy nodded. He stood and wrapped his arms around Reid. "I love you Spencer," the boy said. "Is that alright, that I hug you and say that?"

Reid held the boy away from him and looked in his eyes. "That will always, always, be okay." He pulled the boy into his arms and lifted him. "Come on, we better get you to bed. I want you to be bright and perky for that awards ceremony."

"I don't have any pajamas here," Fletcher muttered into Reid's shoulder.

"We're a pair of geniuses, surely we'll think of something!"


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------------

The BAU team, minus their resident genius, was gathered in the conference room. "Where's Reid?" Garcia asked.

"He's looking after Fletcher. They had to go over to the hotel and get clean clothes for the boy. He's got an awards ceremony this afternoon for the science fair. Reid thinks it's important that he attend." Hotch told them.

"Poor little guy, he sure has a time of things doesn't he?" Emily responded. "I'm glad Reid did what he did. I think those two really need each other."

"Now, down to business," Hotch interrupted Prentiss in his usual stern manner.

"Okay," Morgan began as he sat twirling his pen in his hands. "We're looking for someone who was a witness to Theresa's verbal exchanges with Rafferty, someone who had something to gain from his death."

"Or definitely something to lose if he lived," Emily added.

"I'll go over Rafferty's laptop and see what he was working on," Garcia said. "I'll also upload all the pictures he took and I'll see what the hotel security cameras can give me."

"I guess the rest of us are off to interview the people at the hotel, the ones Rafferty photographed, the staff and anybody who witnessed Theresa and Rafferty together," Rossi interjected.

"I'll talk to some of my contacts in the press," JJ suggested. "Maybe we can get a better feel for who the guy was and who'd have enough to lose that they'd try to kill him."

--------------------------

Reid packed some of Fletcher's clothes while the child was in the bathroom changing. He'd put underwear, socks and pajamas in the suitcase and opened another drawer to find a neatly folded pile of tee shirts and sweater vests which he added to the others. Opening the closet he took out shirts, blue jeans and two pairs of cords. He looked at the packed items and the implication was not lost on him.

Reid had never thought of himself as anyone's role model. How could he, he thought? He was a stammering, fact spouting, socially inept, drug addicted nerd with a lousy sense of fashion. He certainly didn't want to pass those qualities on to Fletcher. Had he made the wrong decision when he'd decided to be Fletcher's guardian? Had he been too hasty, too caught up in emotion? The boy would be much better off with someone like Hotch, who would guide Fletcher like he did the team, with strength and fairness, or Morgan who could teach the young genius how to be socially accepted and physically tough, or even Rossi with his vast life experience and his laid back sense of humor would be a better choice. Well, it was too late to think about that now. Maybe he'd try to get Fletcher involved in some kind of activities with his teammates and the boy would gain more from them and less from him.

While Reid was caught up in these thoughts Fletcher emerged from the bathroom clad in navy cords, a striped shirt in multiple shades of blue and a navy sweater vest. Reid stood facing a miniature version of himself. He supposed he should be flattered but he didn't want his relationship with Fletcher to produce a carbon copy of himself. He was sure the world wasn't ready for that and he wanted Fletcher to develop his own unique personality and style.

"Do you really think I should go?" the boy asked. "I don't really feel like it. How can I be happy if Theresa's locked up? It doesn't seem right."

Reid sat on the bed to get himself more on level with the child. "You worked hard for this and if Theresa could be there she'd be cheering you on. She'd want you to go and maybe you'll have an award to show her next time you see her."

"She's going to be okay isn't she? She's really afraid of the police, especially after what happened when that guy kidnapped me. She's going to be so scared Spencer. What if they say she did this and keep her in jail?"

"Do you trust me?" Reid asked the child.

"Yes," the boy nodded.

"Then trust that my team is going to dig until they find out who did this. My friend Garcia, you've never met her but you're going to love her, is better than anybody with a computer and whatever's out there to find about who killed this guy, she'll find it. We found you didn't we?"

"Yeah," Fletcher agreed.

"And we'll find who killed David Rafferty but first you and I have some business at the science fair."

----------------------------

"What exactly did you see?" Emily asked the Jorgensens who were staying in room 310.

"Well, that pretty Mexican girl got off the elevator saying she wanted him, the man that was killed," Bernice Jorgensen elaborated, "to leave her alone or he'd be sorry." She looked at her husband for verification and he nodded. "Then," she continued, "the man said it was a lovers' spat and she'd get over it."

"We didn't think anything more about it," Ralph Jorgensen added. "You know how it is, I mean Bernice and I have had our share of spats too but when we saw her at the elevator last night she said they weren't lovers and she just wanted him to leave her alone."

------------------------

"Can you tell me what you saw and heard, Mr. Wright?" Rossi asked the gospel star.

"I saw Rafferty talking to the young Latino woman in front of the elevator. He was leaning in towards her and talking quietly so I couldn't hear what he said to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and the woman pulled away and yelled at him. Everyone could hear what she said. She told the guy not to touch her and that she didn't like him and she didn't want anything to do with him, not that I blame her," the singer added. "Then she said he should leave her alone or he'd be sorry. She got on the elevator and left the lobby."

"Not a fan of David Rafferty's were you Mr. Wright?"

"No, I disliked the man immensely."

"Because he tried to ruin your career by publishing pictures of you buying marijuana in the Informer?"

The singer nodded, "That's only part of it, the smallest part actually. I did something that I knew was legally wrong for reasons that I thought were morally right. All I wanted was to make my grandfather's journey to his maker as pain free as possible. The medications they were giving him weren't working so I bought the marijuana and it helped." He paused for a moment. "Then those pictures showed up in the Informer and my record sales dropped but more than that it was the looks I got from the people around me that said they didn't trust me like they did before; that they doubted my sincerity and my faith. I know it doesn't sound very Christian but I'm not surprised someone killed him. David Rafferty got what he deserved."

"Mr. Wright, where were you when Mr. Rafferty was killed?"

"I was at a little church about three blocks from here, praying."

"Can anyone verify that?" Rossi asked.

"No sir, I was alone."

-------------------

While Rossi was talking with Dale Wright, Morgan was having a similar conversation with Marvin Learner, who gave roughly the same account of the altercation between Theresa and Rafferty.

"You didn't like Rafferty very much, did you?" Morgan asked.

"Did anyone?" Marv replied, "He was a scum sucking asshole. It's my job to protect Dale and I'm good at it. I can protect him from men twice my size but how can I protect him from photographs and words written in some crappy tabloid?"

"The pen is mightier than the sword I guess," Morgan replied but the sentiment seemed lost on the bodyguard. "Where were you at the time of the murder?"

"I was in my room. Dale wanted to go to church. He likes to go to church alone. He seems to think he doesn't need me, that the Almighty will protect him."

"Were you alone?"

Marv Learner gave Morgan a meaningful look and sighed, "Sad to say, I was."

-----------------------

Rossi, Morgan and Prentiss met in the lobby and went over the substance of their interviews when Stan Westin, the head of hotel security, came rushing up to them. "The cleaning staff think they may have found the murder weapon," he told them.

"Where?" Rossi asked.

"On the third floor, behind the ice machine."


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------------

"Did they touch it?" Rossi asked.

"No sir, they just found it and called me."

"Okay, we'll be up there shortly. Don't let anyone touch it," Rossi told him as he pulled out his cell and pressed speed dial. "Hotch there's been a development and you're not going to like it."

---------------------------

"Well Jennifer Jareau, long time no see," Jack Weir said as he sauntered into the small café, it's windows lined with booths upholstered in a gold vinyl and sat down in the booth across from JJ who had a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Jack, I need some information," JJ rested her forearms on the table and looked at the man in his late forties with a head of thick dark hair now streaked with grey but a mustache that was still the dark brown of his youth. The waitress approached with the coffee pot. Jack nodded and she poured a cup before retreating back to the counter.

Jack's green eyes brightened in surprise, "Aren't you a little confused JJ; isn't that usually my line?"

"David Rafferty's been murdered," JJ told him. "We're working the case and I'm trying to find out what I can about him."

"So I heard. Society owes a debt of gratitude to whoever put a bullet in that guy," he said as he took a sip of the hot liquid.

"Jack!"

"Sorry JJ, but Rafferty was one of those bottom feeders who gave journalism a bad name. His goal wasn't to inform the public but to destroy whoever he could."

JJ shifted in her seat, "Any idea who he was presently out to destroy?"

"Word is he was onto something with Matthew Blake, at least there seemed to be sightings of him wherever Blake showed up, but whether it was a legitimate story or just some junk to ruin him, I don't know. We didn't exactly hang out if you know what I mean."

"Look Jack, if you could find out anything, I'd appreciate it. It's important."

The reporter was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtfully at JJ. "I thought I heard they'd arrested someone?"

"No," JJ clarified emphatically, "they took someone in for questioning but it's the wrong person."

Jack Weir's eyes narrowed. He was intrigued now. "How do you know it's the wrong person? Is this something personal JJ?"

"Listen Jack, I've said all I can. If you can find out anything will you let me know?" the blond agent pleaded.

"On one condition, you owe me a scoop."

"You'll be the first call I make," JJ assured him.

"Then I'll be in touch," he said as JJ thanked him, left money on the table for their coffees and hurried out of the restaurant. Jack Weir lifted his cup to his lips and pondered the conversation he'd just had with the lovely Jennifer.

-------------------------

Rossi frowned as his gloved hand pulled a 9mm Glock out from behind the ice machine on the third floor. Detective Dryden was going to love this he thought as he held the metal object up by the barrel for the others to see.

"Do you think it's the murder weapon?" Stan Westin asked.

"Of course it's the murder weapon," Morgan responded. "It wouldn't be hidden here if it wasn't. Have you got a plastic bag Stan? We have to get this to CSU for testing."

"Oh yes, of course," the man replied, turning to go in search of the required item.

"They didn't search here last night because they were so busy patting themselves on the back for taking Theresa in that they left lots of time for the killer to plant the gun behind the ice machine, somewhere everyone knew Theresa had been," Emily remarked.

Stan Westin arrived with a zip lock bag and Rossi placed the gun in it and wrote out an identifying tag. "We'll get this to CSU and hope for the best," Rossi said.

"Do you think her fingerprints will be on it?" Westin asked.

"No, nobody's prints will be on it. We can only hope our killer made the mistake of forgetting to wear gloves when he or she loaded the clip. That sometimes happens," Morgan told him. "But since the killer removed the spent shells, it's unlikely he or she made a mistake with the clip."

"We might as well finish our interviews before we head over to the police station," Rossi suggested as he put the bagged weapon in the back waistband of his jeans.

--------------------------

"You did great!" Reid told Fletcher who seemed unhappy that he hadn't won the best overall award. "You won best project for the southwest region, best physics project and best project in your age group. You have to admit that that girl's project on stem cell regeneration was pretty impressive." They reached Reid's Volvo and he unlocked the doors and the pair climbed in.

"I guess you're right," Fletcher replied as he looked at the awards he carried. "I'm probably just worried about Theresa."

"Well, luckily for you, I know just the thing to cheer you up." The boy looked at him expectantly. "We're going to go to Quantico, you can see where I work and I am going to introduce you to the neatest lady in the world. There's no way you can be bummed after meeting her."

--------------------------

Emily exited the Blake's room after talking to Sienna Blake. Rossi and Matthew Blake had gone to the coffee shop so the couple could be interviewed separately. Sienna Blake's version of what she had heard of Theresa's outburst in the lobby was similar to what they'd heard from Wright and Learner. Sienna Blake had also been alone in their room at the time of the murder she told Emily as her husband had, conveniently the profiler thought, stepped out for some air.

Matthew Blake's account matched his wife's almost word for word the trio discovered when they met to compare notes which sent up red flags in the minds of the profilers. They'd learned from past experience that two people rarely described the same thing in the exact same way.

Morgan's interview with Eric Kelly produced a similar description of Theresa's actions. Kelly had claimed to be alone in his room working on future scheduling for Matthew Blake at the time of the murder.

"So that's five people we've talked to that witnessed Theresa and Rafferty and none have an alibi for the time of the murder," Emily said. "It could have been any one of them and we haven't even been able to talk to Laura Ashburn or Stewart Mitchell yet as they're out of the building at the moment."

"Let's talk to some of the staff. We'll have to find out who was working that night and who on the staff are witnesses to Theresa's run ins with Rafferty," Rossi said as they headed for the front desk.

Morgan's cell rang and the trio stopped, "Tell me you have something good for me baby girl."

"Ooh, I always have something good for you, mon cher!"

"What did you find out for us Garcia?" Rossi interjected.

"Okay, your corpus delecti was a real sleaze. He went out of his way to make anyone in the public eye look bad. His most recent interest has been Matthew Blake and his wife Sienna. His computer shows he was following them around and doing a lot of research on them, trying to dig up something that they wouldn't want widely known and he may have hit pay dirt. He believed Blake and Laura Ashburn were having an affair. Blake did get her endorsement but I don't think it's that. Laura's been digging into Blake's wife Sienna's business and the voting public wouldn't be so happy with what she found. So maybe their meeting wasn't the romantic but the arm twisting variety." The tech finally stopped for a breath.

"Maybe we should take a closer look at the Blakes and Eric Kelly," Rossi suggested.

"Thanks baby girl, you keep digging."

"You got it, Garcia out," the call ended.

"I hate politics," Emily whined as they carried on to the front desk.

"Hi," Rossi spoke to the desk clerk who was dressed in black pants, a white shirt and the hotel's trademark teal vest. "We're with the FBI," the three agents flashed their ID. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Were you working when the murder occurred or had you personally witnessed any of the altercations between Miss Montoya and Mr. Rafferty?" Emily asked the desk clerk.

"No," the young man replied. "I did see Mr. Rafferty have words with Mr. Wright. I thought the bodyguard was going to intervene but Mr. Wright stopped him. I'd had my hand on the phone ready to call security but Mr. Wright just said some things to Mr. Rafferty and said he hoped he got what was coming to him."

"Those were his exact words," Rossi confirmed.

"Yes," the young man replied.

"Okay, thank you," Morgan said as the agents turned to leave.

"I was here when she left the message," the desk clerk hollered after them.

"What message?" the three agents said in unison.

"The message for Mr. Rafferty to come to room 321 that night at eleven."


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

--------------------------

Reid and Fletcher vacated the elevator on the sixth floor and proceeded through the glass doors of the BAU. "This is where I work," Reid told the boy as they stopped by one of the many desks in the bullpen which thankfully, Reid thought, was not bustling with activity on a Sunday afternoon. Anderson was at his desk, Reid noted but then the thought struck him that Anderson always seemed to be at his desk or on the fringes of the activity. Didn't he ever go home, Reid pondered. "And this is my desk."

"Yeah, that figures Spencer since the name plate says Dr. Spencer Reid."

"A smart alec, there's one in every crowd," Reid responded.

"You would know," Fletcher shot back with a smirk. Reid smiled back at his young ward and nodded.

"Follow me," he said as they left the bullpen and headed down a hallway where Reid knocked on a plain black door.

"Come in if you're good lookin'," could be heard through the door. Spencer and Fletcher looked at each other, both raised their eyebrows and Reid turned the knob. He peeked his head around the door as did Fletcher from his lower vantage point.

"I hope that means us," Reid said.

"Of course it does sweet cheeks," Garcia said as the two entered and Fletcher silently mouthed the words 'sweet cheeks'. He'd have to tease Spencer about that when they got home. He was amazed how easily he'd come to think of his life with Spencer as home. "This must be Fletcher," the woman was saying. "I'm so glad to finally meet you."

Fletcher looked back at the woman in front of him. She had blonde hair that was done in two braids the fell on either shoulder, tied up with red bows. She wore a bright red skirt and jacket with a white top that had red flowers all over it. She even had red framed glasses. She smiled at him, a smile that went all the way to her eyes. She had very nice dimples, Fletcher thought, and knew in an instant that he liked her. He was surprised to suddenly be engulfed in her tender plumpness. He didn't often get hugs and the warmth of this woman surrounded him, making him feel warm all over. He found himself returning the hug of a perfect stranger who somehow didn't feel like a stranger at all.

"Fletcher, this is Penelope Garcia," Reid said. "She's my best friend."

"Hello Miss Garcia," the boy said almost reverently.

"Listen, nobody calls me miss. You can call me Garcia, Penelope or Pen, whatever you like. We are going to have some fun together, you and I."

Fletcher snuck a peek at Reid and then looked back at Garcia. Most of the adults he met were impressed by his intellect and looked on him as a miniature adult. They never said anything about fun. "We are,' he repeated tentatively.

"Of course we are. We're a family here and now that Reid's your guardian you've become part of that family. You don't just get him sweetie, you get all of us."

Reid looked at Garcia and raised his eyebrows, his eyes asking the question. Garcia nodded, "Rossi, Emily and Morgan are headed down to the police station to meet with Hotch. Apparently there have been some developments."

Reid nodded back, "Fletcher, I'm going to go down there and find out what's going on. You stay here with Garcia, okay?"

Fletcher and Garcia both nodded, the boy's eyes grew large at the sight of all the computer screens. "You like computers?" Reid heard Garcia ask as he exited the room. As the door closed he heard, "What's your favorite game?"

------------------------------

Rossi, Prentiss and Morgan arrived at the police station with the weapon, their interviews and the statement by the desk clerk. Detective Dryden, whose face could not help but betray his utter glee, told an officer to rush the gun to forensics for examination and listened while the three agents gave the gist of their interviews, finishing with the desk clerk's statement.

"He said," Prentiss flipped through her notebook, "that a woman with a Hispanic accent called and asked the clerk to leave a message for David Rafferty to meet her in room 321 at 11pm."

"See, I knew we had the right person all along," Detective Dryden said with a self satisfied smirk.

"Did she identify herself as Theresa Montoya?" Hotch inquired.

"No," Rossi clarified, "and she wasn't calling from room 321. She was calling from a house phone."

Morgan's phone rang, "Talk to me mama."

"Okay, something kind of weird is going on. I've been checking the hotel security cameras and the camera in the elevator shows it stopping on the third floor, the door partly opens, two shots are fired and Rafferty's lying on the elevator floor."

"Yeah, well we knew he took two shots to the chest Garcia; what's the weird part?" Rossi asked.

"The security camera on the third floor should show who's standing at the elevator, right?" Garcia asked. "But all I've got is snow. The killer has somehow jammed the camera so we can't see who it is. It comes back on shortly after and we see Theresa leaving the room, going to the ice machine and you know the rest."

"Jamming the security cameras is too sophisticated for Theresa," Morgan remarked.

"Wouldn't I have heard something?" a small voice could be heard through Morgan's cell. "I mean a gunshot registers about 140 decibels, depending on the caliber. That's louder than a rock concert. I was sleeping a couple of rooms away and I didn't hear anything until Theresa screamed." Hotch winced as he remembered the pain in his damaged ear when shots had been fired near him.

"You're right Fletcher," Rossi exclaimed, "now that you mention it no one we've talked to has mentioned hearing the gunshots."

"Jamming the security cameras and now a silencer," Morgan said, "this is all way too sophisticated for Theresa."

-------------------------

"Agent Jareau," JJ spoke into her cell.

"Hi JJ, Jack Weir."

"Hi Jack; were you able to get any information for me?"

"I talked to a couple of paparazzi who were semi friendly with Rafferty. He didn't share too much of what he was working on as most reporters don't. I use the term reporter loosely in his case since all he usually did was sneak around and take pictures but recently some say he's been delving into some of the information on his targets, doing a little investigation, if you will."

"Anyway," the reporter continued, "his present target was Matthew Blake. He was apparently out to get the guy. Why, I don't know. But one guy also told me that he was still totally pissed over Dale Wright. He was upset that the guy's career only stalled and seems to be getting back on track and the fact that bible boy never got arrested. I think he wanted a picture of Wright in handcuffs on the front page of the Post. That's all I got for you JJ. You do remember your end of the bargain, don't you?"

"I haven't forgotten. Thanks Jack," JJ closed her cell.

------------------------

Detective Dryden stormed into the interrogation room followed closely by an irate Hotch after Dryden had mentioned arresting Theresa for the murder of David Rafferty based on the new evidence the team had brought in.

"Are you out of your mind?" Hotch asked. "Think about this. You know there is no way Theresa Montoya had enough know how to jam that camera. Her prints were not on the gun. She was not identified when the message was left. Anyone can put on a Mexican accent. Any fool could see that that message was left to lure Rafferty to the third floor and his death."

"What about her threats and isn't this a conflict of interest for you Agent Hotchner, being in the BAU and working the case and also acting as Montoya's attorney?"

"That's why I've left the investigating to the others. I didn't want to be accused of misdirecting evidence in some way. But you are not seriously considering arresting a woman for murder because she said leave me alone or you'll be sorry?" Hotch responded hotly. "There are people staying at the hotel who've been hurt by Rafferty in the past, people who he was gunning for right now, people with a lot more firearm and technical knowledge than Theresa Montoya and you're dismissing all of them! Someone, who's framing Theresa Montoya, is leading you around by the nose and you're just letting him or her do it." Hotch reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. "Here," he handed it to Dryden. "I think you'll need this."

"What for," Dryden asked, looking at the handkerchief and back at Hotch.

"To wipe the egg off your face when the public finds out you were fooled into arresting Theresa Montoya and allowed the real murderer to get away."


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer; See chapter 1

-----------------------------

Reid walked into the precinct to find three irate agents in the bullpen. "What's up guys?" The three took turns filling him in on the evidence they'd collected and how it all conveniently, too conveniently they thought, pointed to Theresa. Reid's eyes widened when they told him about the security camera being jammed and Fletcher's contribution which led them to the idea of a silencer. "That's my boy," Reid asserted with a grin. "Where's Hotch?"

"He went after Dryden," Emily responded. "They both looked about to come to blows at any time!" Reid had seen that look on Hotch's face before and it was scary. He didn't envy Detective Dryden being on the receiving end of Hotch's wrath.

"Has anyone seen Theresa?" Reid asked.

"I suppose Hotch has but he didn't mention it," Rossi told him.

At that moment Hotch returned to the bullpen. By the look on his face, the other members of the team could see he was still livid. "He won't listen to reason," Hotch said. "Hi Reid, how's Fletcher?"

"He's hanging in there. He's a tough little guy but he's worried about Theresa. I was hoping I'd have some good news for him. I left him with Garcia. He seemed somewhat mesmerized by her. I thought if anyone could cheer him up, she could."

"Baby girl will take good care of him and JJ's there too. He's in good hands."

Detective Dryden strode into the bullpen. "How do I know," he bellered, "that if I let little miss Mexico go, she won't make a run for the border?"

"Because we'll see that she doesn't," Emily said hopefully. "She doesn't want to go back to Mexico."

"N…no, she doesn't. She…she…she can stay with me and…and Fletcher," Reid stammered. "I'll take full responsibility."

"Ya got guardianship of the kid and now you're gonna take custody of the maid too?" Dryden asked in surprise.

"I think this whole thing will be easier for both of them if they're together."

"Reid, are you sure about this?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah Hotch, I'm sure."

---------------------

Garcia, JJ and Fletcher were sitting in front of the bank of computers. After JJ's conversation with Jack Weir, they were waiting for results of searches being done on Dale Wright and company, the Blakes and company, Laura Ashburn and Stewart Mitchell, looking for anything that could cause one of these people to bring about the demise of David Rafferty.

"So anyway," JJ said as the trio chewed on the chocolate bars they'd gotten from the vending machine, "I told Reid and Morgan this story about why I was afraid of the woods involving me finding a dead camp counselor one night when I was a kid. It wasn't true but they believed it," JJ's eyes twinkled, "and Reid said he was afraid of the dark."

"So, he ends up in this kind of, what the community considered, a haunted house and local rumor had it that people who went in didn't come out," Garcia continued the story. "It was dark in there because the electricity had been turned off and I'm talking to Reid on his cell and, of course, I remind him of this fact while he's sitting in the dark. I'm saying, it must be spooooky fun," Garcia said in a sing song voice. "Morgan told me Reid was totally freaked."

"Tell him about Seattle," JJ giggled.

"Well," the computer tech began, "It's a different story depending on who you talk to but Hotch says they were both screaming for him. There was this elevator…"

---------------------------

Theresa was finally brought from the holding cells and did not look at all like the woman Reid had seen the night before at dinner. Her beautiful dark eyes were puffy with dark circles under them, Reid assumed, from crying and lack of sleep. The manicure she'd had done at the salon had been destroyed as her nails had been bitten almost to the quick. Reid thought she seemed smaller than her normal height, the ordeal appearing to shrink her as she stood trembling before them. She looked at the agents and gave a weak smile as Detective Dryden spoke. "Miss Montoya, you are being released with the stipulation that until this matter is concluded, you are precluded from leaving Washington except in the company of Agent Reid who is being permitted transport you to Quantico. Agent Reid has consented to personally assume custody of you to guarantee that you do not flee this jurisdiction. Will you abide by this agreement?"

Theresa appeared confused, looking back and forth between the profilers and Detective Dryden. Emily sighed loudly, could the man have tried to use any bigger words that Theresa wouldn't understand she thought as she said quickly in Spanish, "Debes quedarte en el apartamento de Reid porque la policía teme que huyas. Reid esta asumiendo la responsabilidad por ti. Tienes que decirle a Detective Dryden que tu aceptaste quedarte con Reid y Fletcher hasta que todo se aclare."

"Si, ches, I will stay with Spencer and Fletcher." She looked gratefully at Reid. "Mucho gracias Spencer."

Reid removed his jacket and stepped forward wrapping it awkwardly around the trembling woman's shoulders as Dryden handed her an envelope containing her personal belongings. "Don't worry Theresa; it's going to be okay. Fletcher can hardly wait to see you. He's worried about you." Reid put a gentle hand on her back and led her to the door of the precinct.

As they reached the door, Dryden said, "You make sure you keep an eye on her."

"I'll do my job detective. Why don't you try doing yours?" He opened the door for Theresa to precede him out but before she did he bent slightly and whispered, "Hold your head up high. Don't give him the satisfaction." Theresa raised her eyes up to Reid and she saw the warmth and compassion she'd needed. He nodded at her reassuringly as she raised her head high and strode out of the precinct with all the self confidence she could muster.

It was a quick drive to the hotel to get Theresa's things. While Reid and Theresa made their walk from the doors to the elevator, they could feel all eyes in the lobby were on them. Although Theresa had calmed somewhat in the car, she began to tremble again. "Everyone is looking at me Spencer."

From the corner of his eye he could see fingers point and people whispering and nodding to one another. He wanted to yell at them but he didn't want to make the woman beside him any more uncomfortable than she already was. He gently took her elbow, "Head up, look at me and smile," he said. Theresa did as she was told while she waited for the elevator.

When the elevator doors opened there was absolutely no sign that a man had died there less than 24 hours ago. Reid examined the area, the investigator in him kicking in, although he knew he would find nothing. He momentarily ignored Theresa as the elevator climbed to the third floor. He stood where Rafferty had stood as the doors began to open and imagined seeing what David Rafferty saw just before he died. The team had relayed that in the video Garcia had viewed she'd said the door was only partially open when the shots were fired, not giving the victim time to react. The team was right; the killer had been waiting for Rafferty and was no amateur with a gun. Reid pulled out his cell and speed dialed. "Garcia, check out all our suspects past history with guns. This was no amateur."

"On it sweet boy."

Theresa inserted her key card in the door and opened it. She gasped when she entered the room. All her clothes and belongings were strewn throughout the room. The drawers were all open and her new clothes, even her underwear were on the beds, the chairs and the floor. Her suitcase lay open on the bed, the linings ripped open. Theresa appeared to fall backwards and Reid caught her in his arms as he was sure her knees would buckle at the sight before her. She turned toward him and the tears she'd been stoically holding back since the police station were finally let loose as she leaned on Reid's shoulder and sobbed.

------------------------

Translation:

You have to stay at Reid's apartment because the police are afraid you'll run away. Reid is taking responsibility for you. You have to tell detective Dryden that you agree to stay with Reid and Fletcher until this is cleared up.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------------

Reid let Theresa cry. What else could he do, he thought? He felt she deserved the chance to get all her pain and frustration out. He just wished he knew how to handle crying women better. Why wasn't he more like JJ or Morgan he thought as he gently patted her back and said, "It's going to be okay?"

Her sobs finally turned into hitched breathing and eventually she was quiet. "I am sorry," she sniffed, stepping back and wiping her hands over her tear stained face. "I am so much trouble for you."

"No, you're not," he said, thinking of the rape victims and others he'd met on the job who had been violated and looked at their searching and investigating as just another violation. He was sure this was how Theresa felt about strange hands going through her intimate things. He'd hate to admit to her that there had been times he'd been the strange hands going through other people's things. "I'm sorry this happened to you. You haven't done anything wrong and you don't deserve this." He wished he'd been informed that they'd executed a search warrant on Theresa's room. At least he could have prepared her. "It's standard procedure to search the residence of a suspect and since you are staying here they searched your room. It's nothing personal toward you. It's done all the time. They were likely looking for a device that could have been used to jam the camera and a silencer. When they didn't find them it probably helped prove that you didn't do anything."

"I was always so afraid of the policía in Mexico. They are so corrupt. I was afraid when I first came here because I was illegal. But when you and Agent Prentiss helped me get legal status I wasn't afraid because I thought the policía here were different, that the two in San Francisco were not normal but now, now I know I will always have to be afraid of the policía." She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"No, no you don't have to be afraid of the police. They were just following the evidence as they found it. Someone is trying to make it look like you did it so the police won't look at them. But the police know that the evidence they have won't hold up in court so they let you go. You're free now, well you have to stay in town until the case is closed but you'd probably rather stay here with Fletcher than rush home to the loveless Bancroft house."

Theresa nodded, "Ches you are right. Gracias Spencer."

"I should have done this before," Reid said shaking his head at his own thoughtlessness, pulling out his phone and hitting speed dial.

Fletcher was in the round table room. The others were returning soon and JJ and Garcia were getting the information they'd compiled ready for the team. His cell rang and he pulled it from his pocket. "Hello."

"Fletcher," he heard Reid's voice, "just a minute." Reid handed the cell to Theresa.

"Hola, mi chico pequeño precioso," she said into the phone.

"Theresa, hola, are you alright?" the boy said excitedly.

"Ches," Theresa responded, "I am fine," and Reid saw her smile at last. "I cannot wait to see you though."

"Where are you?"

"We are at the hotel. I will just pack up my things and then Spencer and I will come to you, ches."

"Okay, I'll see you soon," he turned to the two women. "That was Theresa. She's just going to pack her clothes and they'll be here. Isn't that the greatest?" JJ and Garcia both nodded that it was.

Theresa handed the cell back to Reid. "Gracias Spencer, that is just what I needed."

Reid nodded and returned his cell to his pocket and decided to ask the awkward question. "Do you want me to help you with these things," he gestured to the clothes strewn around the room, "or would you rather I wait in the hallway?"

"You do not mind if I do it myself? I will be quick."

"Of course, there's no rush," Reid replied as he headed for the door.

"Ches, there is, I want to be out of here as fast as possible."

--------------------------

Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss and Morgan filed into the conference room. "Hey Fletcher," Morgan said giving the boy a high five. "It's good to see you again buddy." He looked at the cords and sweater vest and whispered to Prentiss, "Did Reid dress him?" Prentiss smiled at the boy who was now indeed a mini Reid.

"Uh, Fletcher," JJ said, "we have to talk about the case now. Maybe you should wait at Reid's desk."

"Is it okay if I stay? I mean it's not like I don't know what happened. I'll just sit over here." The boy moved off to the side, away from the table.

JJ looked at Hotch who shrugged. The boy was so advanced for his age, it might not affect him. He wished Reid was here; after all it was his call.

"What did you find out?" Hotch asked the women.

JJ informed the team about the information Jack Weir had given her. Garcia had looked into the people he'd mentioned and at Reid's suggestion she had done checks on their gun history.

"Matthew Blake," Garcia said as JJ clicked the remote, "republican senator from Texas, rumored to be making a bid for the party's presidential nomination in the next election. He's a rancher and a vocal advocate of the 2nd amendment and a member in good standing of the NRA. He's been handling guns since he was in short pants."

"Sienna Blake," JJ continued, "married Blake 28 years ago. They have one daughter Lorraine, 24 who's a teacher at a private school near her parents' ranch. Before she married Blake, Sienna Milner was a cop so she'd know how to handle a weapon."

"Eric Kelly," JJ clicked the remote, "Blake's right hand man, 42, law degree from the University of Texas, worked as a federal prosecutor for a while in Houston until he hooked up with Blake. He has a permit to carry a concealed weapon."

"Dale Wright," the picture of the gospel singer appeared on the screen. "He's had a couple of run ins with police when he was a teen, nothing violent, mostly vandalism. He liked to spray paint his art work on the sides of buildings. He was born again at the age of 17 and got into music. Never been involved in any violence, no record of owning a weapon or knowing how to use one."

"Marvin Learner," the man's picture filled the screen as Garcia spoke, "there's not a lot on him. He worked as a delivery van driver in New York until he became Wright's bodyguard."

"How did he become Wright's bodyguard?" Emily asked. "Is there a big call for that with gospel singers?"

"Apparently," Garcia continued, "after a concert one night in New York, some anti religion freak started getting on Wright about his music outside a concert hall he'd just performed in. The guy started to get physical and pushed Wright to the ground where he almost got trampled. Learner was walking by with a lady friend and went to Wright's defense. The rest is history. There's no record of him registering a gun…"

"Do I hear a but in there baby girl?"

"No," Garcia responded.

"I think you think because he's a brother, there's no way he wouldn't be carrying so if there's nothing registered he must have gotten a piece on the street."

"No I really didn't mean…"

"Statistics show," Reid babbled, cutting off Garcia as he entered the room with Theresa, "that there is more gun violence among young black males than any other demographic so although Learner has no registered weapon, Garcia is not entirely out in left field to think he still may be armed. I'm surprised that he doesn't have a registered weapon considering he's a bodyguard."

"Theresa," Fletcher squealed as he ran to the Mexican woman and the team was treated to her lovely smile as she took the child in her arms. The room was quiet as the pair hugged for a while.

"Why don't you take Theresa down and show her Garcia's office but don't touch any of the computers," Reid told Fletcher.

"Okay Spencer," the boy took Theresa's hand. "You've never seen anything like this," his voice trailed off as they got further from the conference room.

"Sorry Reid, we didn't exactly know what to do with him." Hotch told him. "We wouldn't have let him see anything graphic."

"That's okay, he's with Theresa now and she'll keep him occupied." Reid came to the table and sat down beside Emily, picking up the pages JJ and Garcia had made about the possible suspects. He ran his fingers quickly down the pages, flipping them at warp speed. "Okay," he said, "who's next?"

"Laura Ashburn," JJ said clicking the remote.

"Who we haven't been able to talk to yet," Emily interjected.

"Has a very popular syndicated talk show," JJ carried on. "She is a very rich woman as are the Blakes which gives one pause to wonder why they were both at a less than five star hotel at the same time. As far as weapons go, there's no record that Ashburn owns one…"

"Which wouldn't matter anyway," Rossi remarked, "since the serial number's been filed off the murder weapon. We wouldn't be able to trace it to any of our possible suspects."

"But," JJ continued once again as if she hadn't been interrupted for a second time, "she did do a show on gun ownership. Since more citizens own guns she thought that if you own a gun you should know how to use it, just like driving a car. She had a guest from a SWAT team that was showing her and others how to shoot at paper targets. She was pretty good. At the distance the killer had to shoot from, I'd say she'd have no problem."

"And lastly," Garcia said as JJ clicked the remote, "Stewart Mitchell, Laura Ashburn's right hand man. A communications specialist with a business degree, he was honorably discharged from the marines after 20 years of service."

"He'd be able to shoot straight," Morgan interjected. "I hate to say it but we're not narrowing the field here at all."

Hotch's expression said he had to agree. "Why don't we call it a day? We can start back fresh tomorrow morning. Reid's got to get Fletcher and Theresa settled in," Hotch said. "I'll see you all tomorrow," he took his files and headed for his office. No one expected that he would just go home and put his feet up.

"So Reid, now that you're Fletcher's guardian," Morgan giggled as he took a sip of his coffee while the others were collecting their things, "I hope you're not going to start dressing him like you."

"I didn't dress him Morgan, he dressed himself." Reid looked at the table to avoid Morgan's eyes.

"What does every little boy want to dress up as?" Rossi asked but Reid shook his head never having been a normal child himself and having no idea what kids of today wanted to dress up as. Rossi backhanded Reid on the shoulder with his file as he left the room, "His superhero."

-------------------

Translation: Hello my precious little boy


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

----------------------

Reid unlocked the door to his apartment after a long trek home. He had mentioned, quite innocently he thought, ordering pizza for dinner but Theresa had said she'd be happy to cook something to which Reid had admitted that being a bachelor who was away a lot, there wasn't much in the house to cook. He'd have to go to the market tomorrow he told them. Theresa had suggested there was no time like the present to pick up a few things. Having never shopped with a woman, Reid had no idea that 'a few things' meant a cart that was full to overflowing and took over thirty minutes to fill with Fletcher adding his favorite things to the mix and Theresa arguing with the butcher until he cut the meat exactly the way she wanted it. Once they made it to the checkout and Reid forked over more than he'd pay for food in three months, he had to load it into the car which still contained Fletcher's and Theresa's bags and Fletcher's space consuming science project.

By the time they made it to the door after lugging eight grocery bags, two suitcases and one large science project, Reid was exhausted. Theresa's eyes widened, "Oh Spencer, you have such a beautiful apartment." She turned around trying to get a view of all of it at once. She went over to the large island that separated the kitchen from the living area. "This kitchen, it is so wonderful. I will make you a very good meal, ches?" she turned to look at Spencer.

"Really, there's no need. I've got some macaroni in there and we got some cheese. I could just pop it in the oven and we've got some garlic bread. You don't have to go to any trouble," Reid said heading for one of the cupboards and pulling out a box of macaroni.

"Spencer, that macaroni's in a box," Fletcher stated the obvious.

"Uh yeah, macaroni always comes in a box."

"Not when Theresa's around. She makes pasta from scratch."

Oh, Reid thought, he'd never known anyone who made pasta from scratch. Well, maybe Gideon had, he'd never asked, why would he, he thought again?

"Please, let me cook a meal for you? I would really like to give you back some of your kindness to me," Theresa pleaded. "Just leave the bags and I will put everything away."

"But you don't know where everything goes," Reid maintained.

"That is fine. I will find out and if you have some things in the wrong place I will move them to make the kitchen more," she turned to the boy, "how do you say Fletcher?"

"Efficient," Fletcher offered.

"That is it, more efficient."

"But..." Reid began when he felt Fletcher pull on his jacket.

"Give it up Spencer. You can't argue with her when she's in this mode."

While Theresa busied herself in the kitchen, Reid helped Fletcher store his project in his office that had now become Fletcher's bedroom. He supposed he'd have to do something with his desk and the files he kept, maybe make room for it in the living room or his bedroom so that Fletcher could have a real bed when he stayed here and not just the old futon that inhabited the office now. They'd have to talk about it. He changed the sheets in his room so Theresa could sleep there. It wasn't a very feminine room with the ebony furniture and dark linens on the bed. He guessed it couldn't be helped. He'd just put Theresa's bag beside the bed and put out some clean towels when he heard her call that dinner was ready.

Reid and Fletcher came to the table and Theresa placed "platters," which were actually a pizza pan and a cookie sheet disguised with paper towels, of what looked like fried chicken and oven roasted potatoes along with a bowl of shaved carrots and a huge salad on the dining table situated in an area behind the sofa but with no actual wall separating the living and dining areas. It was not a large dining table, sitting only four but it was large enough for Reid who never had dinner guests. It was made of the same ebony as the furniture in the bedroom and the end tables and bookcases in the living room. Reid couldn't remember it ever holding such a meal as it did now. Theresa looked deferentially at Reid, waiting for him to go first. It smelled glorious Reid thought as he filled his plate and cut off a piece of chicken and popped it in his mouth with Theresa and Fletcher both watching his reaction. He was expecting simple fried chicken but his mouth was greeted to an explosion of flavors. Beneath the ordinary looking crispy coating, it was hot and spicy. He could taste garlic, chili powder and a hint of something else he didn't recognize. Reid had to admit it was the tastiest and most tender chicken he'd ever eaten.

Fletcher looked at the two people he'd come to love most in the world. Spencer's eyes widened as the delectable mixture of tastes spread throughout his mouth astounding his senses. Theresa sat quietly, as was her way, but as she saw Spencer's reaction as he chewed eagerly on the chicken, the sides of her mouth curved up into a smile.

"That is the most delicious chicken I've ever tasted," Reid said after he'd swallowed.

"Gracias Spencer."

"I could have told you Spencer," Fletcher said as he took a bite of his own chicken, "that Theresa's the best cook in the world."

Reid couldn't help but think Fletcher might be right after he finished his second helping. He never had second helpings but the threesome had been caught up in lively conversation with Fletcher telling Theresa about the science fair and the awards he'd won. Theresa rose to clear the table, happy that Spencer had enjoyed the meal. "Why don't you let Fletcher and me clear the table and you relax in the living room?"

"I could not do that. It would not be right. I will clear these dishes and bring dessert." Reid looked at Fletcher who shook his head so he settled for Theresa doing what she wanted. She returned a short time later with a tray with three parfaits made with layers of mixed fruit and ice cream topped with whipped cream, chocolate sauce and sprinkled with nuts. Reid didn't have parfait dishes so Theresa had used tall glasses.

"That was amazing Theresa," Reid said as he scooped the last bit of ice cream and fruit out of the bottom of his glass.

"Told you," Fletcher said from across the table. This was one of the best meals he'd ever had, the boy thought, and it had nothing to do with the delicious food and everything to do with the company.

"Now," Reid said in a tone that would brook no argument, "Fletcher and I are loading the dishwasher and you can go sit with your feet up and watch TV, listen to music, read a book or take a long bath but you're not allowed in the kitchen any more tonight."

"Spencer, are you angry with me?"

"No, why would I be angry with you? Come over here," Spencer led Theresa to the sofa while he sat on one of the comfortable chairs one either side of it. "Theresa, you are a guest in my home. I know that the circumstances kind of forced you to be here but you're still a guest, not a servant. I don't expect you to cook or clean or wait on me while you're here. If you want to make the odd meal, I'd be happy to enjoy it but I don't want you to feel it's your duty. Do you understand?"

"Ches Spencer, I understand, gracias. But I really love to cook. It is my favorite thing."

"Okay then, you can cook but Fletcher and I will do the cleanup and that is nonnegotiable."

Theresa looked confused. _Jeez Spencer you're as bad as Dryden._

"Those are the rules," Reid tried to explain more clearly. _Right, now you sound like a dictator. _He tried again, "You can do the cooking, Fletcher and I will do the cleanup." He moved his hand back and forth between the two of them, "That way everybody does something and everybody's happy, deal?"

"Deal," Theresa nodded.

Reid turned and looked at Fletcher, "Deal," the boy responded.

After Reid and Fletcher had loaded the dishwasher and tidied the kitchen, Reid tied up the trash bag. "Come on Fletcher, I'll show you where this goes. This will be part of your chores when you're home."

When Reid and Fletcher returned from throwing out the trash Reid figured he'd better dive right into the sleeping arrangements. "Fletcher, you're going to sleep where you did last night. When you're away at school I'll move my desk," he paused for a moment and waved his hand around the room, "I don't know, somewhere. Then you can have that for your room when you come home."

Fletcher smiled at the thought of this being home while Theresa's face clouded over. It was really happening. Fletcher would not be going back with her to San Francisco. What would she do in that house without him? Would the Bancrofts even want her when Fletcher wasn't there for her to tend to because they were too busy with their lives? She was lost in these thoughts when she heard what Spencer was saying. "You'll sleep in my room Theresa and I'll sleep on the couch."

"No Spencer, you must not give up your bedroom for me. I do not want to make trouble for you."

"You're not making trouble. You're a woman stuck here with two guys. I'm sure you'd appreciate the privacy the bedroom offers. I insist."

Theresa nodded. "That is very kind of you Spencer, gracias."

"And Fletcher," Reid added, "I don't want you looking at any of those files. They're not for children to see."

"Spencer, you know I'm a very advanced child."

"Yes, I realize what that means more than most, but you just said it yourself; as advanced as you are, you're still a child."

"Awww," the child moaned. "Can I see your gun?"

"No, you may not. You're too young to be handling my gun. Someday when you're older, I'll let you see it and hold it."

"I can't see your files or your gun. I've seen your badge. Isn't there anything I can see?" His eyes lit up, "What about your handcuffs?"

Reid rarely carried his handcuffs, they were in his messenger bag because it was mandatory that he have them but he left it up to Morgan to do the cuffing. Morgan was into the physical stuff. The child looked so hopeful he guessed it wouldn't hurt. He went to his messenger bag that he'd set just inside the door, retrieved the cuffs and handed them to Fletcher.

"Where's the key?" Fletcher asked. Reid reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, a small one he handed to Fletcher. "Cool." He showed the boy how they worked and left him to play with them while he talked to Theresa.

"I want you to feel free to do anything you like while you're here," Reid told her. "Watch television, listen to music or read, whatever." Fletcher put the cuffs on his wrists but the cuffs fell off his small hands. He looked over at Spencer and Theresa. "I have some pretty good books and a fairly varied collection of mus…" Reid stopped as Fletcher had crept silently up beside him and he suddenly found himself cuffed with his own cuffs.

The boy way laughing uproariously, "Gottcha Spencer!"

Reid looked down at his cuffed hands. He could see them begin to shake and his palms began to sweat. "Take them off Fletcher."

The boy continued to laugh and dance around the room with the key in his hand. "Take them off Fletcher," Reid said a little louder. He could smell the fish hearts burning. He could feel the pain as Tobias drove the wood into his foot. He could see Pam and Mike Hayes being slaughtered. He could hear the click of the gun as it pointed at his head. He could feel the sting of the needle and the blessed but all too brief oblivion it promised. "Take them off," he snapped at the boy who suddenly stopped laughing and look frightened at Reid's tone.

Fletcher started backing away, "Spencer, I never meant to…"

Reid stood, "Take them off now," he screamed and Theresa ran to the frightened boy.

"Spencer, you're scaring him." Theresa grabbed the key from Fletcher who seemed unable to move. He shook and tears ran down his face. She approached Reid cautiously as if she thought he might strike her and put the key in the lock that released Reid from the cuffs. She then ran back to Fletcher and held the child who suddenly seemed afraid of one of the people he loved the most.

Reid sat on the couch and his expression reflected those of Theresa and Fletcher, as if he was as shocked by what had just happened as they were. He put his head in his hands, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

----------------------------

"I'm sorry," Reid said again. "Please come and sit down. I have to explain." Fletcher and Theresa still stood where they were and it broke Reid's heart to see fear in their eyes. "Please!"

Fletcher and Theresa moved to the couch and sat close to one another, the young Latino woman putting her arm protectively around the boy. Reid couldn't blame her if she called Fletcher's parents and had them revoke his guardianship.

"I'm sorry," he repeated again. "I didn't mean to scare you. I wasn't aware that I would react that way myself until the cuffs were put on me." He paused for a moment trying to find the words to tell an eight year old, albeit a brilliant one, what had happened to him in Georgia.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. "A couple of years ago in Georgia I was kidnapped by a serial killer we were chasing. He managed to knock me out and cuffed me with my own handcuffs. I woke up in this little shack in the middle of a cemetery. I don't really want to go into detail about all the things he did to me except to say that it involved both physical and psychological torture." He paused and swallowed audibly. "After that I suffered from post traumatic stress disorder which is a kind of anxiety disorder after a traumatic event that usually has to do with the threat of injury or death. I had a really rough patch for a while after it happened, a lot of flashbacks and nightmares." Reid decided not to mention the Dilaudid. "It gradually got better and for the last year I've been doing really well but there have been some lasting effects. He burned fish hearts and livers. I've never smelled anything that ghastly and now I can't eat fish. I used to love it. I still have nightmares now and again. Anyway, when you put those cuffs on me, it all came flooding back and I could smell, see and feel all the things that happened to me. I…I never meant to yell at you or scare you. PTSD is a strange thing. It can strike when you least expect it or be brought on by the tiniest thing." He looked at the boy and the woman, pleading in his eyes. "Do you understand?"

"I do," Fletcher said as he slid off the sofa and walked over to stand in front of Reid. "I had some really bad dreams after what happened to me. I did some reading on PTSD."

"Fletcher," the concern was evident in Theresa's voice. "You never told me that."

"I didn't want to be a whiny baby. You know how mad Mom gets about that," the boy said. "But how come nothing happened when I put the handcuffs on?"

"PTSD is different for everybody. Two people can have the same thing happen to them and one will have full blown PTSD and the other might be unaffected. It has nothing to do with one person being weaker or stronger than another." The boy nodded his understanding. "Are you still having the dreams?" Reid asked.

"Not very often, but sometimes," Fletcher replied looking at the floor.

"Did you ever tell any of the kids at school?" Reid asked.

The boy shook his head, "I didn't want them to laugh at me."

Well, he could certainly relate to that, Reid thought. When you're the smartest person in the room, others will look for anything to put you down. "What about a best friend? Do you have a best friend?"

"Yeah, you," Fletcher replied.

So, the child had held everything in all this time. Reid knew all too well how that felt. "Fletcher, look at me." The child raised his head so his eyes looked into Reid's. "I want you to tell me if you're having bad dreams and if you want, we can talk to a child psychologist. I saw a psychologist after my traumatic experience. Don't ever worry about being a whiny baby with me. I want you to feel free to talk to me, about anything. Okay?"

"Okay," Fletcher agreed as he leaned in and put his arms around Reid. "I'm sorry about the handcuffs," he whispered.

"That's alright," Reid hugged him back. "How could you know? Now, it's been a hectic day and I think you should get ready for bed. Don't forget to brush your teeth."

"Aw, do I have to?" the boy pleaded.

"Yes you have to," Reid insisted before Fletcher could get the best of him. He glanced at Theresa as Fletcher left the room, relieved to see the fear had left her eyes.

"I really am sorry about what happened. I hope I didn't frighten you too much."

"That is alright. I understand now," Theresa replied as she looked at the man who once again became the loving person she knew him to be.

"I better go check on Fletcher." Reid stood and left the room, his awkwardness at being alone with a woman exerting itself once again. He found his young ward lying on the futon covered with a plaid blanket in blues and grays.

"Spencer, you don't have to tuck me in. I'm not a little boy."

Reid sat in the swivel chair at his desk, turned it to face Fletcher and leaned forward. "Yes my young friend, that is precisely what you are and I'm going to do my best to see you stay that way for as long as you should."

"That's how you knew isn't it?" Fletcher asked suddenly.

"Knew what?" Reid shook his head.

"After what happened to me in San Francisco you said you understood how I felt and what I went through and I when looked in your eyes I knew that you weren't just saying it. I knew you understood. It's because you got kidnapped too, isn't it?"

Reid was silent for a time, then nodded, "Yeah, that's how I knew."

"Spencer, what happened to the guy who kidnapped you?"

"I don't think you need to know about that Fletcher," Reid responded as he pulled the covers tighter around the young genius as if that act in itself would protect him from all that could hurt him outside these walls.

"Come on, you can't tell me part of it and then stop. Your team must have found you. So they must have got the guy. He won't get out of jail and try to come after you someday, will he?" The boy couldn't hide the concern on his face.

"It wasn't quite like that…"

Theresa settled in the hot water in Spencer's large tub. It felt so wonderful and relaxing. She only had a small bathroom off her room next to the kitchen and it only had a shower with no bathtub. She had always longed to sit in the Jacuzzi upstairs but had always been afraid of being caught and losing her job. This was heaven. She was sure after the night she'd spent in the holding cell; she'd sleep like a log tonight.

--------------------

_He felt blanketed in darkness. Even the moon had deserted him. He limped, stumbling over small rocks and leaves. The rocks and twigs cut into his unshod feet. Not even the sock on his right foot could offer protection from the pain. He could barely put weight on his left foot as Tobias in Charles' voice prodded him forward with a stern, "Git movin' boy." He tripped and fell on his knees discovering his pants weren't much protection from the hard ground beneath. The only thing he could see in the chilly darkness was his own breath. That and his pain made him realize he was still alive if only for a short while longer._

_Finally Tobias, or was it Charles or Raphael, he didn't know anymore, threw him a shovel with a command to "Start digging." He didn't need to be told what he was digging. It was clear it was his grave. Would he be dead or alive when he was put in it? He dug on his knees, throwing shovelfuls of black earth to the side while small rocks made impressions in his knees. "Dig faster," came the harsh admonition from Charles._

"_I can't I'm not strong enough."_

_Charles blurted out that he was a weakling, shedding his coat as lights appeared to flicker in the distance. Were they real or just a remnant of his drug induced haze, taunting him? He looked toward them again as his captor approached and noticed that his captive's eyes were looking at something behind him and turned to see for himself._

_Seizing the opportunity he grabbed the gun and pointed it with all the skill Hotch had taught him and all the strength he could muster at the deranged killer who'd taken his life yet strangely had somehow saved it as well. He didn't need the reminder, "There's only one bullet in that gun boy," as he pulled the trigger and saw his tormentor fall. He half crawled, half walked, half lunged over to the man. Charles and Raphael were gone leaving only Tobias wondering if he'd see his mom again._

_Tobias…I'm sorry…Tobias…I'm sorry…Tobias…I'm sorry…Tobias …I'm sorry…_

_He heard someone saying his name and felt arms reach out for him. He went into the arms and held the person close, "I knew you'd understand."_

"Ches, of course I understand." Soft hands caressed Reid's hair as Theresa held him in her arms. "Sh, it is okay mi amor. You are safe."

"Theresa," Reid opened his eyes, confused.

"Everything is alright." She said as she caressed his cheek and their lips met.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

----------------------------

Reid found his lips moving of their own volition against the soft ones joined with his as each began a gentle tactile exploration of the other. As the kiss deepened and Theresa moved closer, Reid could feel the softness of her feminine curves and the heat of her body through the flimsy fabric of her nightgown. That and his own body's sensual arousal seemed to stir him from his stupor and into reality where he found himself pulling back from this very sensuous woman.

"Theresa…Theresa…we have to stop."

"What is wrong? You were having a bad dream. I am trying to comfort you. You do not like that?" Reid could see the puzzled expression on the woman's face from the hall light she'd turned on to help her find him in the dark.

"No," Reid said, "I…I mean yes. I…I do, like it I mean."

"Then what is wrong?"

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"Why not, that is what men want, ches?"

Reid's eyes widened and he moved still further away from the woman. "Theresa, you don't think I agreed to take custody of you for sex, do you?"

"That is what men want," she repeated.

"Well yeah, a lot of men do sleep around with a lot of women." Morgan popped into his mind, "But, I'm …uh, not like that. I don't really do that sort of thing."

"I was just trying to give you some comfort," she said tearfully, still puzzled by his rejection, "and it is the only way."

"What do you mean, it's the only way?" Reid reached over and turned on the lamp that sat on the end table beside the couch which, he decided, might not have been a good thing as Theresa's thin nightgown did nothing to hide her lovely breasts. He tried to concentrate on her face.

"Mi padre said that is all I am good for."

"Your father said that?" Reid's mouth gaped.

Si, and mi hermano Jose," she added.

"Why would your father and brother say that to you?" he asked.

Theresa was silent for a few moments and then looked down at her hands that rested on her lap refusing to look Reid in the eyes. "We were very poor. Mi padre, he liked to drink and he did not work because he would show up drunk or not at all. Mi madre, she tried to make some money cleaning for a family in town with much money. She had to hide the money from padre or he would take it for drink and madre needed it to buy food and clothes for me and Jose." She looked at Reid and he nodded his understanding. "One day when I am thirteen, mi padre grabs me and says I must come with him. He took me to the place where he drank and said to the barman, 'here she is.' Mi padre pushed me at the barman and the man grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the back room but first he gives padre a bottle and a glass. I scream for mi padre but he just sat down at the table and opened the bottle."

A gasp escaped from Reid. Theresa looked up into his eyes. He was sure he knew what was coming. How long had he been in the BAU, he asked himself, six years? Would he ever not be surprised and sickened by what people could do to one another. He hoped not. He doubted Theresa had ever told anyone about this. She had suffered in silence. Well no more, she had listened to his worst nightmare. He would listen to hers. He reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Theresa cleared her throat. "There was a thin mattress on the floor with no sheets. He threw me down on the mattress and kicked off his shoes and started to undo his pants. I backed away and screamed for mi padre. I hit out at him. I scratched and kicked but he was too strong. He ripped my clothes and then he was on top of me. I spit on him and kicked but I could not get away. He held me down and spread my legs apart so he could get inside me. It hurt so much. He had a hairy chest and a fat belly. He smelled like sweat, liquor and tobacco. He was shoving himself inside me and grunting like a pig. When he was done, I rolled over and was sick on the floor. He was putting his clothes back on and told me to make sure I cleaned it up before I went home."

Reid understood the pull of addiction to a substance, he told himself, but this man had sold his thirteen year old daughter for a bottle of liquor. Women clean up and offer themselves for sex. That's what this poor young woman had been taught. He understood now her attempt to comfort him. "You mentioned your brother too?" he asked.

Theresa nodded and took a deep breath. She had come this far, she might as well go all the way. "When I am nineteen, mi hermano Jose tells me he knows someone who can get him across the border into United States and did I want to come. I want so much to get away from Mexico and I say ches. We pack up a few things and go to meet this man and he says to Jose that before we can go across the border, he needs his payment up front. Jose pushes me in front of him and says just like mi padre, 'well here she is.' The man, Jorge was his name, took me to the back of this dirty van and I just closed my eyes and hoped it would soon be over. As soon as we were safe over the border, I ran from mi hermano and have not seen him since."

Reid closed his eyes and his hands clenched into fists. He did not consider himself a violent man but if he ever came in contact with Theresa's father or brother, God help them. She had thought it would be different here and first Mickey Donovan tries to rape her and then a leech like David Rafferty hooks onto her. She'd said no. She'd stood up to this man and said no. With her background, how hard must that have been for her? And how is she repaid for her courage, by being railroaded into jail. He had been determined before but now he was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this and get Theresa cleared. He needed her to believe she had the right to say no.

"Theresa," he said quietly, "I am so sorry for what happened to you and my hospitality comes with no strings attached," the woman looked confused. "Because I'm letting you stay here does not mean that I expect you to have sex with me." Reid tried to explain in plainer English.

Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, "Gracias for saying that Spencer. You are the only man in my life who never tried to use me. You treat me like I am a…a lady or something."

"Theresa, you are a woman like JJ, Emily or Garcia, worthy of my respect. You're not a doormat to be walked on. You're a kind person. Thank you for coming out to comfort me during my dream. Do you think you could get some sleep now?" Theresa nodded, bade him good night, rose and headed back to the bedroom as Reid turned out the light and laid back down, trying rather unsuccessfully not to think about what lay beneath that nightgown.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------------

Theresa watched Spencer Reid as he lay on the couch. The brown wool blanket that covered him had fallen partly away revealing his torso clad in an old green tee shirt with a hole under the left armpit. She would mend that for him, she promised herself. He was half on his stomach and half on his side. One arm was under the pillow beneath his head while the other hung down over the side of the couch almost touching the floor. He looked so young and innocent in sleep, like his eyes had never seen the gruesome things the people he hunted did to their victims. But after last night, she knew differently. She saw his nose begin to twitch adorably as the smell of freshly brewed coffee vied with Morpheus for his attention. His nose continued to wrinkle and it appeared that the coffee might be winning Spencer's contest of wills. She grabbed the metal whisk and once again whipped it through the batter of her buttermilk pancakes. She had made a fresh fruit and yogurt mixture while sausages were sizzling in a skillet atop the stove and hash browns were cooking in the oven.

"Good morning Theresa," a cheery little voice said as Fletcher entered the room from the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

"Sh," Theresa put a finger to her lips and pointed to Reid on the couch.

Fletcher looked at the bowl in Theresa's hand and his eyes perked up, "Pancakes?"

"Uh hm," she said as she turned back to the stove and Fletcher tiptoed over to his sleeping guardian until his lips were mere inches from Reid's ear.

"Good morning Spencer," he yelled causing Reid to sit bolt upright on the couch, looking very confused.

"W…what the…" he said as he looked groggily around the room to see Fletcher doubled over in laughter and Theresa grinning broadly from behind the island. His wavy brown hair seemed to be going in all different directions. He could smell coffee. That was one good thing. "Good morning," he replied through droopy eyelids, "do I smell coffee?"

"Yeah, and Theresa's making pancakes so you have to get up. She makes the best pancakes."

Reid didn't doubt this for a moment as he eyed the smiling woman, now dressed in a powder blue rib knit tank and a pair of grey pants although he still had visions of her in that nightgown. "You buddy, are entirely too chipper in the morning," Reid said as he stood and began folding the blanket and sheet he'd slept with the night before.

"I could do that Spencer," Theresa said to which Reid turned and gave her a look, "or I could let you do it," she added turning her attention back to the stove, humming softly to herself.

These people were just too bright in the morning. Maybe a quick shower would bring him up to par with them, he thought as he closed the bathroom door and turned on the water.

The table was set for three when he came back to the living area in a pair of grey cords combined with a white shirt, a grey sweater vest and accessorized with a burgundy and grey striped tie. He carried a black blazer over his arm. "Sit Spencer and I will bring the meal," Theresa announced.

Reid sat across from Fletcher, still clad in his pajamas and chewing on a grape. A bowl of yogurt and fruit, plates of hash browns and sausages were soon joined by a plate loaded with steaming buttermilk pancakes. "Eat," Theresa said as she went back to the kitchen to retrieve some warmed maple syrup and sat between the guys.

"Wow," Reid said as he looked at the table, "I usually have a bowl of cereal."

"No no, a bowl of cereal is not enough for a strong man like you," Theresa said as Fletcher began to giggle. "What is so funny Fletcher?"

"Oh nothing," he said as he put a syrup smothered piece of pancake in his mouth and chewed delightedly.

"Theresa, have you ever heard of cholesterol?" Reid asked.

"Ches, of course I have," Theresa responded, "but…"

"Studies have shown that if you don't give your body enough cholesterol, it produces it on its own anyway and if you give it lots the body's own production of cholesterol decreases so it all balances out in the end," Fletcher weighed in on the conversation.

"Only the sausages and buttermilk have cholesterol, the yogurt is fat free" Theresa added. "Do you think I would prepare something that is bad for you and Fletcher?"

"No, not at all so let's eat," Reid said, reaching for the plate of pancakes.

----------------------

Since Theresa was technically in Reid's custody, he had to take her and Fletcher with him again to the Bureau. Although he hated doing it, he had to inform the guards that Theresa was not to leave the facility unless she was in his company. Garcia was agreeable to them sitting in her office while the team had its meeting. She greeted Theresa in the same way she had Fletcher, making the young woman feel comfortable immediately. Reid could only marvel at how she seemed to know just what people needed. Theresa had chosen a book from Spencer's collection while Fletcher had planned to occupy himself with a hand held video game. Reid assured Theresa the team would get to the bottom of this as he headed for the conference room.

After checking their desks for mail and messages the team slowly filed into the round table room, getting coffee and seating themselves around the table. Hotch, who was the last to arrive, started, "Let's go over what we know."

Morgan began the discussion, "Theresa had three altercations with Rafferty witnessed by the Blakes, Eric Kelly, Laura Ashburn, Stewart Mitchell, Marvin Learner and Dale Wright along with other guests and numerous staff."

"Rafferty had been investigating the Blakes and had a real hate on for Dale Wright because his photos of him buying marijuana didn't end up with Wright under arrest on the front of the Post, so he was looking into him as well," JJ added.

"According to Rafferty's notes," Emily recalled, "he thought Blake and Ashburn were having an affair. But, seriously, would two rich and influential people meet at a three star hotel for a romantic rendezvous. It's common knowledge that Ashburn has given Blake her endorsement, but were there strings attached? What if the meeting wasn't a lovers' rendezvous but a negotiation? Have I said how much I hate politics?"

"There was the call from the woman with the Spanish accent meant to lure Rafferty to the third floor," Rossi offered.

"Would that mean that either Ashburn or Sienna Blake were involved?" JJ asked.

"Not necessarily," Hotch responded. "Any of the men could have gotten a woman to make the call pretending to be Hispanic, perhaps an employee or another guest. He could have said something like, he was playing a joke on a friend."

"Wouldn't the woman have come forward?" JJ inquired.

"Possibly she doesn't realize what she did had anything to do with the murder," Rossi said, "or maybe she feels she'll be charged as an accessory."

"Maybe it's something completely different," Reid spoke for the first time.

"What do you mean Reid?" Hotch asked, having learned from experience never to doubt what popped into the young agent's head.

"What if it was someone he hired, like a prostitute, a nameless, faceless person he'd never see again. She wouldn't care what she had to do as long as she got paid."

"Reid man, how would we ever find that out? Do you know how many prostitutes there are in DC?" Morgan chuckled.

"That's a loaded question," Rossi interjected.

"No Morgan, I don't, but I might know someone who might be able to help us find out."

"Who Reid?" Hotch wanted to know.

"I could call Crystal."

"Who's Crystal?" Rossi asked.

"She's a hooker; she was with Nathan when he cut himself. She gave me her number…"

"She gave you her number!" Emily raised her eyebrows.

"Sweet cheeks, do tell," Garcia leaned forward eagerly.

"I…it's n…not like that. She wanted me to call her and let her know if Nathan was okay. It had nothing to do with sex."

"Whatever you say Reid, but remember, I was with you in Kansas City," Hotch replied with as close to a grin as Hotch got.

"Yeah, and Rossi and I saw that blonde closing in on you in Vegas. You gave her 2000 bucks."

"Geez Reid, no wonder they like you," Garcia chimed in.

"Alright, enough," Hotch commanded in response to his youngest agent's discomfiture at the topic in question. "Reid, can you contact this Crystal person and see if she can find out anything. She'd probably have better luck with that network than we would."

"I'll get right on it." Reid stood and left the room, glad of the reprieve of prying eyes and questions.

"Okay," Garcia began after Reid left, "I did some digging into some of the things that Rafferty was digging into and discovered that Sienna Blake's line of clothes is made in a sweat shop in the Philippines using child labor. Rafferty didn't have that information on his computer but Ashburn with the investigators she has at her disposal, may have discovered it and is using it as some kind of leverage over Blake."

"That would be a bombshell and if Rafferty stumbled on to it, he wouldn't have kept his mouth shut. It could have been a reason for killing him," JJ said.

"But Blake hasn't even got the nomination yet," Emily said.

"He'd never get it if Rafferty found this out and talked. Both him and his wife had a lot to lose and possibly Ashburn as well," Rossi postulated.

"What about Dale Wright and Marvin Learner?" Hotch asked.

"I haven't been able to get much more than I had but I'll keep my babies digging back to the womb if I have to," Garcia replied as Reid walked back into the room.

"Crystal's going to look into it. She thinks the girls will be cooperative because they're grateful to us for putting Ronald Weems behind bars. I told her that if she found the girl to assure her that no charges would be laid."

"I'll see to it," Hotch promised.

"Morgan and I have an 'appointment'," Emily made quotation marks with her fingers, "after lunch with Laura Ashburn and Stewart Mitchell."

"Speaking of which," Morgan looked at his watch, "it's about time for lunch. I think it's your turn to buy kid."

"Right, what does everybody want?"

"How about Chinese? We haven't done that since Vegas and you weren't there," Emily suggested as the others nodded in agreement.

"Okay, I'll send Theresa up here and take Fletcher with me," Reid said as he turned for the door.

"Oh, and Reid," JJ said with a wink, "don't forget the chopsticks."

---------------------

Reid and Fletcher were headed for the car with two large bags full of Chinese food complete with chopsticks and forks. Reid started the car and began driving back to the base in Quantico listening to Fletcher hum a tune. It sounded like the tune JJ was singing about Garcia and Kevin in a tree of all things. "What are you humming?" he finally asked.

"Oh just a little song. Something I saw last night made me think of it," the boy told him.

"JJ was singing that tune one day, something about Garcia and Kevin in a tree. What would they be doing in a tree?"

Fletcher rolled his eyes, "Spencer, they're not actually in a tree. Who's Kevin?"

"Garcia's boyfriend."

"Well that would make sense," Fletcher replied.

"Look, can you just tell me what you're talking about? I asked Emily but she wouldn't tell me; she seemed to think I should know. You said it had something to do with something we saw last night?"

"Not we, something I saw," Fletcher began in his sing-song voice, "_Spencer and Theresa sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."_


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

------------------------------

"Uh, you s…saw w…what?" Reid turned his head to look at the boy.

"Geez Spencer, keep your eyes on the road. You just went through a yellow light."

"I did?" Reid said surprised. "Uh oh, I did," he repeated as he saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser in his rear view mirror.

Fletcher turned his head, "Oh man, I do not believe this," he said as Reid pulled his Volvo over.

The officer got out of the cruiser and approached Reid's car on the driver's side. "License and registration," he said curtly. Reid produced his driver's license and was reaching over to the glove compartment for his registration when the officer noticed his glock. "Stop right there, step out of the vehicle." The officer had removed his gun from his holster and had it trained on Reid.

Reid got out of the car, held up his hands and said, "I'm reaching slowly into my left inside pocket for my ID." He pulled out his badge and handed it to the officer.

"FBI!" he exclaimed as he eyed the dilapidated Volvo. These guys supposedly got paid better than he did, what was with the old rattletrap he thought as he handed Reid's ID back to him and holstered his weapon while Reid returned to his seat in the car. "You know you violated Virginia State Code number…"

"I think that was kind of my fault," Fletcher interrupted from the passenger seat. "He wasn't speeding. His speedometer was on 35 miles per hour, just like the sign posted three blocks back designates. I guess I said something that made him turn and look at me for just a fraction," he held his fingers mere millimeters apart, "of a second, enough time for him to enter the intersection and by then we were committed. I probably shouldn't have said anything about seeing him kissing Theresa last night," he continued while Reid sank lower in his seat. "Especially since I wasn't supposed to see it because I was in bed but, well when you gotta go, you gotta go, right." Officer Carmody who suffered from prostate problems was feeling the urge right now and wished the kid would quit talking about it. "Anyway, the hall light was on and I wondered why so I looked in the living room and there they were," the boy's voice was getting higher and squeakier while Reid slid lower in his seat, "Theresa and Spencer in a major liplock."

"So then I was confused," Fletcher carried on, "and that doesn't happen very often. First he's with Phoebe at the science fair, then he's kissing Theresa." He held up both palms and looked down at one, "Phoebe," then the other, "Theresa." The boy shrugged. "Then we're getting the Chinese takeout, which is getting cold by the way, and he gets a call from a hooker named Crystal…"

"Oookay then, you just drive safely there Agent Reid and uh…uh, good luck," Officer Carmody said as he tapped the side of Reid's Volvo and hurried back to his vehicle.

"Did you have to say all that? Could you embarrass me any more?" Reid asked once the officer was gone and he felt he could sit up in his seat once again.

"Got you out of a ticket didn't I?"

"That's beside the point and do not mention any of this to the team, especially Garcia or Morgan." He banged his head on the steering wheel thinking what Morgan could do with that little piece of information. "What you saw, it wasn't what it looked like."

"It looked like two people kissing and that's what it was. Spencer I know kissing when I see it."

"I know but it wasn't supposed to happen," Reid tried to explain.

"I think it still counts," Fletcher told him.

"It only happened because I thought she was Hotch," he said as he drove through the streets toward the base.

"You kiss Hotch!" Fletcher exclaimed.

"No, no, I don't kiss Hotch." He went on to explain about his dream. "Theresa heard me calling out, maybe that's what woke you, I don't know. Anyway Theresa reached for me just as Hotch was reaching for me in my dream and I grabbed her and hugged her, thinking it was him. She said something to me; I can't remember what and the next thing I know we're kissing. I pulled away as soon as I realized."

"Why did you pull away, don't you like Theresa?"

"Yes, of course I like Theresa." He couldn't tell Fletcher what the sight of her in that nightgown had done to him. "I just don't think either of us should rush into something."

"Because of Phoebe?"

"No, not because of Phoebe." Reid told Fletcher about his relationship with the pretty blonde teacher.

"I'm glad," the boy said.

"Why, you don't like Phoebe?"

"Yeah, I think she's nice but I'm glad she's not your girlfriend because that means when you kissed Theresa you weren't cheating on Phoebe. I never thought of you as a cheater. I'm glad you're not."

-------------------------------

They arrived at the conference room to find the team hungry and eager to get at the food. "What took you so long?" Morgan asked.

"Traffic," Fletcher responded.

"Line ups," Reid replied simultaneously.

"Both," the said together.

Theresa appeared at the table with a pot of freshly brewed coffee pouring cups for everyone. "Theresa, sit down," Reid pleaded, "you don't have to wait on us."

Theresa finally agreed to sit down and just enjoy conversation with the team and Fletcher. Fletcher ate Chinese food like he was born with chopsticks in his hand. "I'm going to have to teach you how to use these," he told Reid who was the lone person in the room using a fork.

"JJ and Emily have tried with no luck," Spencer told him.

"Maybe they went about it the wrong way," the boy responded.

"What do you mean?" Emily asked. She must have spent two hours on one flight home trying to teach him.

"Okay, Spencer admits to being less than agile physically, okay klutzy." They all nodded, including Reid. "But, he's able to do complex mathematics and magic tricks. So if I try to teach him making it a mathematics problem or a magic trick, he'll get it without any difficulty. If I say hold it at a 37º angle and move your hand like you were, say, trying to hide a coin, he'll get it in no time. You just have to change his frame of reference."

"I never thought of looking at it that way," JJ said. "Are you sure you're only eight?"

"Well, genii do tend to think outside the box."

"Hotch, can I talk to you about something important?" Reid addressed the unit chief after they'd finished the meal and the rest of the team was trying to stop Theresa from doing all the clean up. "It's personal."

"Sure Reid," Hotch replied and the men left the room together.

Garcia's laptop, that she'd set on a side table along with the files the team had been looking at, pinged and she looked at the screen for several minutes, her hands flying over the keyboard while the others finished restoring the conference room to its original state. "This is really weird," she said.

"Thanks Hotch, I really appreciate it," Reid said as he exited Hotch's office and headed in the direction of the conference room, halfway there he turned and ran down the stairs to the bullpen, sat at his desk and picked up his phone.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------------

Prentiss sat in Laura Ashburn's hotel suite to interview the talk show hostess. "This must be unusual for you," Emily remarked.

"Yes, I'm usually the one to ask the questions," Ashburn responded.

"Could you tell me why you're here Ms. Ashburn?"

"I don't really think that's any of the FBI's business."

"Forgive me Ms. Ashburn but since the man who was murdered was investigating both you and Senator Blake, we're making it our business."

"I was doing some research for my show," she responded testily.

"Don't you have researchers to do that for you?"

"Yes but this required the hands on approach."

"Was Senator Blake here for the same reason?"

"I can't speak for him. Why are you asking all these questions anyway?" She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I thought you'd arrested that young Mexican girl," the talk show hostess protested.

"No, she was only taken in for questioning. She's been released. So, where were you at the time of the murder…?"

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"Alright Garcia, what do you think is so weird?" JJ said as she paced the conference room behind the computer tech who sat in front of her laptop.

"Okay, everybody's got a life, right?" JJ nodded and Garcia continued. "And nobody's life is perfectly linear. Somebody got a parking ticket, somebody else got caught at a panty raid in college. Nobody's life is pristine. In all lives there are peaks and valleys, bumps in the road."

"Okay, I get what you're saying. So the fact that this life appears to be perfect leads you to what conclusion?"

"That the life in question isn't real, that it's been created. If you ask anyone at any of these schools he's supposedly attended about this guy, they won't remember him. Why, because he was never there. Records are there that say he was there but that's just printing on a computer screen. He could just say that nobody remembers him because he was too ordinary to stick out but I don't believe that."

"So are you thinking he's like, in the witness protection program and Rafferty's digging might expose him so he killed him? You don't go into the public arena if you're trying to keep a low profile."

"But he's not the one people are looking at. He's not seen a lot and he could just blend into the woodwork," Garcia stressed.

"He'd be a headache for the marshal that's in charge of him," JJ giggled. "Garcia, you don't think a US marshal would take out someone like Rafferty to protect his charge, do you?"

-------------------------

"Did you learn anything from Mitchell?" Prentiss asked Morgan when they met up in the lobby.

"No, he said she called him in to assist with some research she was working on and he wouldn't get into detail about what that research was."

"Ashburn said they were together at the time of the murder going over notes they'd both made."

"Yeah, Mitchell said the exact same thing but then they've had a day to get their story straight, haven't they?"

"Let's get back to Quantico and present it to the team," Prentiss said as they left the hotel lobby.

------------------------

Reid looked at his email. Mr. Hotchner had been as good as his word and gotten on his request right away. He visited some web sites and was printing out the information when Prentiss and Morgan came through the glass doors. "How'd it go with Ashburn and Mitchell?"

"We're no further ahead," Morgan said as he mounted the stairs to the BAU room.

"What are you up to Reid?" Emily asked.

Reid explained what he was doing and showed her the printouts. Emily's eyes grew large, "I think I might be able to help."

----------------------------

The team reassembled in the conference room and Emily and Morgan gave the gist of their interviews with Ashburn and Mitchell. "Of course they've had time to rehearse their stories and get them straight," Morgan said.

Garcia informed the team what her computer research had come up with and her suspicions. "Just because a guy never got arrested or cheated on his taxes doesn't make him a murderer," Emily reminded them.

JJ mentioned her theory on witness protection. "If that were the case," Rossi interjected, "they'd likely just change his identity again. They wouldn't take out Rafferty."

"Garcia, is it possible," Reid asked, "for you to hack into these computer networks and find out when this information was added. That way we would know for sure if it's a life that was just created."

"You doubt me angelfish, I'm devastated. But to answer your question, of course, when will you learn sweet boy that nothing is impossible for the goddess of the information superhighway."

"Sorry Garcia, must have lost my head there for a moment."

"I'll forgive you because you're cute, but don't let it happen again."

"Okay, if this guy is in witness protection," Morgan pondered as he spun a pen in his hands, "that usually spells mob. If he was involved with the mob he would know about weapons and how to use them, including silencers."

-------------------------

Garcia squealed in exasperation as yet another attempt to hack into the networks that carried the answers to the questions about their unsub, failed. Her door opened and Reid peeked his head in, "How's it going Garcia?" the young profiler asked causing the engrossed computer tech to jump.

"Reid, don't you knock anymore?" she asked when she'd once again got her breath.

"I knocked three times but you didn't answer. So, how's it going?" he said again.

"Don't ask, I'm not getting anywhere even with this new program I created. It's never failed me before," she said without taking her eyes off the screen. Her hair, that had purple streaks today to match her empire waist dress with capped sleeves, seemed to be falling from the large burette, resembling violets, that held it in place. He hadn't seen Garcia in this state since the Randall Garner case.

"Are you saying that the information superhighway has road blocks?"

She turned and gave him a look that should have turned him to stone. "Shut up Reid. I've been able to get into government computers hundreds of times but suddenly I'm being shut out. Well we'll just see about that," she said determinedly as her fingers tapped away on the keys.

"Well, it makes sense they wouldn't make it easy to track a person under witness protection," Reid added in an attempt to alleviate his friend's stress.

"Reid, don't you have something profiler like to do instead of standing here bothering me?"

"Uh, yeah, sure Garcia, I'll uh, see you later." He backed quickly towards the door and was out of it in an nanosecond where he almost bumped into Morgan.

"How's baby girl doing?"

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Reid replied as he hurried down the hallway.

Reid met Emily coming down the hallway, "Oh Reid, I'm glad I caught you. I made the phone call and it's a go."

--------------------------

He sat at his desk and dialed the familiar number waiting for the call to be answered, "It appears that Computer Analyst Penelope Garcia from Quantico is looking into your background. We'll have to think about the best way to handle this."


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------------

It was late afternoon when Reid unlocked the door to his apartment. Despite his protests, Hotch had decided that Fletcher and Theresa had spent enough time at Quantico. Since the team was in a holding pattern, he thought Reid might as well take them home while Garcia tried to get more on the past of their possible suspect's life. If Reid heard anything from Crystal he was to call Hotch immediately.

"I am sorry," Theresa said after the threesome had shuffled in the door and Reid had turned off the alarm.

"For what?" he asked.

"I am so much trouble for you. I know you want to be with your team and instead you have to stay here with me and Fletcher. It is not fair for you."

"Theresa, sit down," Reid said and waited until the woman was seated. "No one forced me into doing this so you have no reason to feel badly." He turned to Fletcher, "Fletcher could you please go to your room. I have something I want to discuss with Theresa."

"Do I have to?" the boy whined.

"Yes," Reid insisted, "you have to. Once I've talked to Theresa we'll talk together as a group." A frustrated Fletcher stomped off to what was now considered his room and banged the door loudly behind him. Reid let it go for the meantime but they'd have words about it later. Although he understood Fletcher had lived in a home with little love other than that he received from the woman sitting next to him, he also knew that his love for the boy would have to be tempered with discipline. He was beginning to realize this task he'd taken on was going to be more difficult than he'd anticipated but, because he loved the boy, he was willing to face the challenge.

He turned to Theresa. "I know that things will be different for you once we get Fletcher into school in Baltimore. I know you probably don't want to go back to the Bancroft home to cook and clean for them now that Fletcher's not there and you have no life outside those walls."

"What are you saying Spencer?" Theresa asked.

"Okay, I did something and after I've laid it out for you if you want to tell me to mind my own business that's fine," he said as he ran the palms of his hands nervously down his thighs. "Hotch has a brother named Sean," he began, "and he's studying to be a chef. He attends a culinary arts school in New York." He paused for a moment. "You are a terrific cook. I've only had a couple of your meals and I already know that and, well, Fletcher says you are as well. You also said it was one of your favorite things so I thought maybe you might be interested in something like that." He bolted out of the chair and dashed to his messenger bag beside the door and pulled out a file folder. "Sean did a lot of research on culinary arts schools before he chose the one in New York. I got his number from Hotch and phoned him; he emailed me a list of some of the better ones." He showed Theresa the list and information on each school he had printed up.

The young Mexican woman looked at the list of schools. "You think that I could go somewhere like this?" she asked, unable to hide the astonishment in her voice. "I do not have very much, how you say, learning," she replied as she tried and failed to find the word she wanted.

"Education," Reid supplied.

"Ches, education," Theresa agreed. "It is not important for girls in Mexico."

"That's the beauty of this. You only need to have graduated high school."

"But I did not graduate high school," Theresa informed him.

"Then you can get what's called a GED. It's a high school equivalency. It's hard but I'll help you and I'm sure Fletcher will help you too, if you want to do something like this, that is."

Theresa was silent and Reid watched her as she considered his words. Suddenly she stood, "No…no," she said waving her hands in front of her as she turned from him and walked toward the window.

Fletcher, hearing Theresa's raised voice, cracked the door open slightly but couldn't hear if anything was being said. He advanced quietly to the corner of the hall and peeked into the living room. Theresa was standing in front of the window with her back to him and Spencer. What had Spencer said to upset her. Theresa turned and when she spoke Fletcher could hear tears in her voice but wasn't close enough to make out the words.

"It is very nice that you would do this for me Spencer. No one was ever so kind. But it is not possible. All this, it must cost much money. I have no money. Dr. Bancroft, he only pays me enough for to buy things I need. If I wanted to move and get another job, I have no money to put down for an apartment. I must go back to San Francisco."

"No, no you don't have to go back," Reid said gently as he took Theresa's arm and led her back to the couch. "Sit please, I have more to say." Theresa sat on the couch wiping her damp cheeks with her hands and looked at Reid.

"Emily asked me what I was doing," he indicated the printout Theresa had set on the huge ottoman in front of the sofa. "I explained my ideas to her, complete with the fact that you'd need another position and a place to live. Emily's parents are ambassadors. They've lived and worked in countries all over the world. The cook for Emily's parents is apparently scheduled to have back surgery and she'll be out of commission for about six months. Emily asked her mother to consider you as a personal favor. Ambassador Prentiss is willing to meet with you the day after tomorrow. It's a live-in position and, believe me, Ambassador Prentiss will pay you a lot more than the Bancrofts. There will be some cooking for large parties as the Prentisses do entertain however Emily tells me they hire extra staff for bigger functions."

"As for the cost of school," Reid carried on. "There are scholarships. There are even special scholarships awarded to minorities. You'll probably stand a pretty good chance of getting one if you've worked for an ambassador. The cost of the GED is minimal. I'll pay for that." Theresa opened her mouth to protest but Reid held up his hand. "You can pay me back when you're a chef in some swanky restaurant making a gazillion dollars." He picked up the list of schools. "There are a couple close by. There's one in Arlington and one in Norfolk. So if you choose one of those, you'd still be close to Fletcher."

"And you," she said looking up from the paper into the most beautiful brown eyes she'd ever seen.

"Oh, of course, and me," Reid squeaked, "and the rest of the team. You'll have friends here you can rely on. They're like a family and we pull each other through every day."

Theresa looked from Reid to the paper she held and back to Reid again. "I never thought anything like this could happen to me, even in a dream.

"None of it's a done deal," Reid noted the confusion on Theresa's face and rephrased. "Nothing is for sure yet. You still have to get the job with Ambassador Prentiss and if she doesn't hire you we'll have to look for something else. You'll have to do a lot of hard work but if you're willing to do that there's an excellent chance you'll get the life you came to America for. You'll be a strong independent woman and you'll never have to kowtow, I mean bend, to any man's will ever again."

Theresa stood, "If this could happen for me, I will work harder than anyone ever worked."

Reid rose from his chair as well, "I know you will Theresa."

"How do I just say gracias? It is not enough for all you are doing for me." She reached up and put her arms around a surprised Reid's neck, "Gracias Spencer, thank you." She put her arms more tightly around Reid's neck and his arms came around her as he hugged her back.

"You're welcome," he said against her hair as she turned her head and their lips met, barely touching at first, then beginning a soft gentle exploration and finally deepening as they moved closer to one another.

Fletcher turned and headed back to his room. Silently closing his door, he raised his fists in the air in triumph, "Yes!"

Reid's cell phone rang and the couple pulled apart, "Oh, uh, that might be Crystal. Maybe she has the news we're looking for," he said as he removed his cell from his pocket. "Hello, Reid."

"Hi, Spencer, it's good to talk to you again, it's Phoebe."


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------------

"Oh, hi, Phoebe, how are you?" Reid said into the cell after he'd gotten over his surprise. Theresa backed away.

"I'm fine; I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time?"

What could he say to that, he thought? _Yeah, I was just in the middle of kissing the woman who's kind of been living with me. _"No, no not at all." _Well, that was original genius._

"I'm just stuck here in the physics lab. I have a few students doing some make up labs and I've been grading math papers and I got to thinking about you talking to my students. I wondered if you could come some afternoon, maybe during the last two periods and then the kids could stay after if they wanted to ask you questions." She laughed. "You wouldn't mind being grilled by a bunch of teenagers would you?" She paused for a moment and cleared her throat. "Then maybe afterwards I could buy you dinner to, uh, thank you."

"Yeah, that would be great Phoebe. Unfortunately, I'm in the middle of a case right now and it's not possible but when it's over and I've got Fletcher settled, I'll be there," Reid told the woman. Theresa, he noticed, had left the room and gone to the kitchen. He could see her taking ingredients out of the fridge and the pantry in preparation for making dinner.

"Oh, of course, I'd never want to take you away from a case. Whenever you're free, we'll work it out." There was silence again for a moment. "So, how have you been?"

"Uh, good, really good." _Could you be any less scintillating conversationally? _"Busy, but good."

"Oh well then, I won't keep you. Say hello to Fletcher for me and let me know when you're available to talk to the kids."

"Sure, I will; no problem. I look forward to it."

"Good, uh, take care now, bye."

"You too, bye Phoebe."

Reid heard the pantry door bang as he folded his cell and put it back in his pocket. "Theresa, are you alright?" he said as he walked toward the kitchen.

"Of course, I am fine," she smiled broadly. "I am wonderful. How could I not be after what you have done for me? I am going to cook you an excellent meal. It is one of Fletcher's favorites but I think you will like it too."

"I have no doubt that I will. Speaking of Fletcher, we need to talk." Reid headed for the room that had formerly been his office and knocked on the door, not seeing the smile Theresa had pasted in place, crumble.

"Come in," came softly from behind the door. Fletcher was on the futon playing a hand held video game.

Reid sat in the chair and swiveled around to face Fletcher. "Put the game down please. We have to talk." The boy set the game down and looked at Reid. "You and I have always been buddies, right?" The youngster nodded. "Things are a little different now. Before it was your parents' job to discipline you but now that I'm your guardian that job falls to me. That makes our roles a little different and I need you to understand that. I needed you to go to your room and I didn't appreciate the stomping feet and the slamming door. I had to talk to Theresa alone. It was about her future."

"You said we'd talk together; are we going to do that now?"

"Well, I was going to but Theresa started making dinner while I was talking to Phoebe on the phone so maybe we'll talk about it at dinner or after."

"Phoebe called?" Fletcher crossed his arms over his chest, looking angry, "Why?" he demanded.

"That really isn't any of your business and I don't like your tone."

"What am I supposed to think; you're kissing Theresa one minute and then you're talking to Phoebe the next. Is she trying to come between you and Theresa?"

"Me and Theresa, hold on right there. There is no me and Theresa. I explained about that kiss last night," Reid told the boy.

"I'm not talking about last night, I'm talking about a few minutes ag…" Fletcher suddenly stopped speaking and put his head down.

Reid's eyes widened, "You were watching us after I told you to go to your room? You were eavesdropping?"

"It wasn't like that. I heard Theresa cry out "no, no," so I just opened the door to see if she was alright. I saw her at the window and wondered what you'd said to her. Then I saw you talking again but I couldn't hear the words. Then you hugged and started kissing and that's when I came back here."

"Look, it wasn't what you think," Spencer said only to be rewarded with a look from Fletcher that said he didn't believe that for a minute. "Theresa was just thanking me. I did something I hope helps her and she was thanking me."

"Uh huh," came the skeptical reply.

"This is getting us nowhere. Now, I'm confiscating the video game and the MP3 player. You'll stay here until dinner and come back here afterwards," Reid said as he turned for the door.

"Why do you always make excuses with Theresa?"

"What do you mean, excuses?"

"The first time you kissed her because you woke up from a dream and didn't realize what was happening and now it's that she was just thanking you. Why can't you just kiss her without excuses?"

"I told you my relationship with a woman is my business, not yours."

"Alright, I'm sorry, okay," the tears began to fall from his big blue eyes. "I just love you and Theresa and when we're here together it seems like a family. You and Theresa are all I've got."

Reid's first instinct was to run to the boy, take him in his arms and hold on tight but he couldn't let Fletcher think that tears and theatrics could get him out of trouble. "If you love us so much, maybe you'll give us the respect we deserve from now on," he said as he pulled the door closed. He wasn't sure if the snap he heard was the closing door or his heart breaking in two.

"Where is Fletcher?" Theresa asked from the kitchen when she saw Reid return to the living room alone. Reid explained why he had confined Fletcher to his room, leaving out the part about Fletcher's contention that he made excuses for kissing her. Theresa nodded her understanding.

Reid sat down on the couch. He hated leaving Fletcher crying in his room especially since he understood the boy's emotions so well. When his father had left, all he'd wanted was a regular family, a mom and dad, like other kids had. Fletcher thought of him and Theresa almost as parents. Should he let that sway his feelings?

Was he making excuses for kissing Theresa, he asked himself? And if he was, what did it say about him. Theresa was a very beautiful woman and he had to admit, to himself at least, that he found her attractive. The fact that he always seemed to end up kissing her must mean something mustn't it?

What about Phoebe? He'd been attracted to her the night they'd met and they'd enjoyed each other's company at the science fair. She'd called and still wanted him to talk to her class and then she'd suggested dinner. He hadn't refused even though he'd just been kissing Theresa. Did that make him some kind of letch?

Theresa brought him out of his musings with, "Dinner is ready."

Over a delicious meal of cinnamon apple pork tenderloin, roasted potatoes and sweet corn, Reid told Fletcher about the plans for Theresa. The boy had been uncharacteristically quiet since coming out of his room for the meal until he'd been told the news that Theresa would not be going back to San Francisco. He jumped out of his chair and hugged her warmly then went over to stand by Reid's chair. "Thank you Spencer, for helping Theresa stay here."

"I'm glad I could help," Reid said as he chewed on a potato.

"I'm sorry I was bad," Fletcher added with his head down.

"I'm sorry too but that doesn't get you out of your punishment. After we've cleaned up, you have to go back to your room. Fletcher nodded and returned to his seat.

"But first, we must have dessert," Theresa disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a tray holding three bowls and a plate of biscotti. She placed one of the bowls in front of each of the occupants at the table.

"What is this?" Reid asked, looking in the bowl.

"It is called affogato. It is espresso or strong coffee and ice cream. You dip the biscotti into it which I made with cocoa and chocolate chips."

"You gave Fletcher strong coffee?" Reid asked.

"No, I gave him a tiny bit of coffee for the flavor and chocolate milk."

Reid nodded, "Oh my God, a dessert made with coffee. I think I've died and gone to heaven." He grabbed one of the biscotti and dunked it into the concoction moaning in ecstasy as the tastes of the coffee, ice cream and chocolate melded into a symphony of flavor.

Theresa sat in the living room with her book while the guys cleaned up but she found herself unable to concentrate on the words with thoughts of what she and Spencer had talked about whirling around in her head and, of course, the kiss that had been cut short by the call from Phoebe. She could hear Spencer and Fletcher in the kitchen sometimes talking quietly, sometimes laughing, mingled with the sound of running water and the clatter of dishes.

She wished she could make sense of her jumbled thoughts. On the one hand, she was glad not to have to return to San Francisco and at the same time she was terrified. Was that normal? Then there was Spencer. She'd never felt anything like this for a man. Did he feel something for her as well? It seemed that way when they were in each other's arms. He appeared eager enough but then, she asked herself, what did she know of men when they weren't forcing themselves on her? And what of Phoebe, the pretty school teacher who had so much more in common with Spencer than she did? Fletcher had told her Phoebe wasn't Spencer's girlfriend but he had seemed very happy to hear from her all the same.

She was startled from her thoughts when Fletcher and Spencer came into the living room. Reid was allowing Fletcher to take a book into his room and Fletcher moved his finger over Reid's vast collection. Reid had to hold him up so he could see books on the higher shelves. He chose Twilight, showing Reid who nodded. As he left the living room for his bedroom, he admonished in a sing song voice, "Behave yourselves," before he closed his door on the adults' laughter.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-------------------------------

Theresa stared at her meager wardrobe hanging in Reid's closet next to his. She hadn't brought many clothes. Originally she'd only planned to be here for three days. She couldn't wear anything she purchased at the hotel. She actually didn't feel like wearing any of her things since strange hands had been through them. A soft knock on the open door brought her from her reverie, "Come in."

"Hi," Reid said as he entered the room clad in charcoal grey dress pants, a cranberry shirt and a grey tweed vest. His hair, still damp from the shower was starting to sprout into curls. "I forgot to get a tie." He approached the closet reaching past Theresa to his tie rack. He shifted through them until he came to a black with small white polka dots and removed it. "Sorry for the intrusion."

Theresa's eyes widened; no man had ever apologized for intruding on her, especially in his own home. They'd always assumed it was their right. "Can I ask you something?" she said as he turned to leave.

"Sure," Reid replied as he turned his attention back to her.

"What…what should I wear? Tomorrow, I mean, when I go to see Ambassador Prentiss."

It was Reid's eyes that widened this time. "You're asking me?" he squeaked so endearingly Theresa almost burst into laughter. "Everyone's always on me about the way I dress. I'm not a good one to give advice, especially to a woman." Theresa's eyes looked doubtful as she surveyed the man before her. He looked pretty damn good to her. "W…why don't you ask the girls? If you need to get something new, the four of you can probably go after work and pick something out."

"Okay, I will do that, gracias Spencer. Spencer," she said as he turned to go again. "What is she like, Ambassador Prentiss? I want to," she searched her mind for the right English words. Reid waited, not filling them in for her, allowing her to find the words herself. "To make a good impression and I thought maybe if you know her you could tell me what she might want from me."

"I don't really know her. I only met her once. She came to the BAU with a case she wanted us to handle. She struck me as very 'lady of the manor'." Theresa shook her head, not understanding. "She was nice enough but I think she's very aware of her station in life. She's used to getting what she wants. Emily's not like her at all. She'd be the one to ask."

Theresa nodded, "I am sorry to be so much trouble for all of you."

"You keep saying that. How can I convince you that you're not? Friends do these things for one another." He saw the skeptical look on her lovely face and added, "Yeah, I didn't know much about friends until I came here either. They weren't a big part of my life when I was growing up. The team is more like family than friends. Emily once took a beating from this sick bastard to prevent me from having to take it. I felt so guilty but Emily said it was her choice and she would have done it again. It was Emily's idea for you to work for her mother. She won't mind you asking."

"But what about the clothes? Maybe they do not want to take time from their day for me."

"Theresa, are you kidding? You're talking about Emily, Garcia, JJ and shopping. I think it's a rite of passage with women. You are not truly a woman until you can shop until you drop or have a closet full of shoes, whichever comes first."

Theresa began to laugh, "A closet full of shoes?"

"Trust me; I'll give you a couple of years. I bet you'll have a closet full of shoes by then." He held up the tie, "I have to go finish getting ready for work."

--------------------

Reid, Theresa and Fletcher filed off the elevator and into the BAU. "Hi Emily," Reid said as he approached her desk. "Has Garcia gotten anywhere with her search?"

"No, and she can't understand it. She's like a bear down there so approach with caution."

Reid nodded and whispered to his friend, "Theresa has some questions about what to expect from your mother and what she should wear, that type of thing. I told her you girls would help her out."

"Sure Reid, no problem, we'll take care of it."

"Thanks Emily," Reid heaved a sigh of relief as he went back to Theresa and told her Emily would be glad to help.

"Conference room five minutes," Hotch yelled from the landing. The team nodded, filled their coffee cups and headed for the stairs. Fletcher and Theresa headed for the sanctuary of Garcia's office.

Garcia passed them in the hallway carrying her laptop. She only waved, not giving her usual smile and jovial banter. "What's up with that?" Fletcher asked.

"I do not know. Perhaps we should just keep to the background and read our books."

"Have you found anything on the computer search Garcia?" Hotch asked when they were all assembled.

"No sir, whoever's blocking me is damn good but I will get to the bottom of it."

Hotch nodded, "Reid, anything from Crystal?"

"Not yet Hotch," Reid said just as his cell began to ring. The young profiler pulled the instrument from his pocket, "Reid."

"Hi Agent Reid, it's Crystal."

"Crystal," Reid nodded his head at the others putting his phone on speaker. "Were you able to find out anything?" he said into the mouthpiece.

"Yeah, yeah I did. One of the girls, who works out of Florida Avenue, Anita Sanchez is her name, said some john asked her to phone the desk at the Comfort Inn and leave a message for David Rafferty to meet her in room 321. Paid her 200 bucks and didn't want so much as a blowjob."

Reid's face pinked somewhat, "Uh, did you get a name or a description of the man Crystal?"

"Anita said he told her his name was Eddie but I doubt it. We meet a lot of Eddies. She said he was good looking, tall, black."

The excitement in the room was palpable, "That's great Crystal. That helps a lot. Do you happen to have a phone number or address for Miss Sanchez?"

"Yeah, she didn't want to give it to me but I told her she wasn't in any kind of trouble and that she could trust you." She gave him the address and phone number.

Reid wrote it down on a piece of paper. "Thanks Crystal, you've been a big help."

"Anytime, oh and Agent Reid, if you're ever lonely, I would take real good care of you, no charge!"

Reid's face changed from pink to a bright red, "Uh…uh," he stammered as the team began to snicker around the table. Even the ever stern Hotch was covering his mouth with his hand. "Th…thank you for…for the offer. I'll, uh, keep it in mind, bye Crystal." He closed the phone quickly, making deliberate work of returning it to his pocket and not meeting his teammates' eyes. When he finally looked up the six people around the table burst into laughter.

"Ooh hoo," Morgan was laughing uproariously, "I would take real good care of you," he mimicked a female voice. "I'll bet. Why can't you have that kind of luck with women who aren't hookers?"

"How do you know I don't?" Reid asked as he stood and left the room.

Morgan sprang from his chair. "Reid wait up," could be heard by the rest of the team, "are you holding out on me?"

Hotch punched numbers into the phone and waited for it to be answered. "Detective Dryden, we'll be there in an hour. Have your men bring Marvin Learner in for questioning."


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------------

Marvin Learner occupied one of the chairs in the DC Metro precinct's interrogation room. He sat straight in his chair, legs crossed, arms resting comfortably on his lap, his fingers laced together. His body language was not that of someone who was about to be questioned by the FBI with regards to a murder, Reid thought as he observed the man from the anteroom. "Hotch, what do you think our chances are of making an arrest stick if he's in witness protection?" Reid asked. "Jack Vaughn killed that kid right in front of me and walked away."

"I guess it depends on what kind of a witness he is and how badly they need him. He looks pretty cool and Dryden said he hasn't asked for a lawyer."

Dryden entered the interview area with a pen and a legal pad. "I hope this works better than the last time I interrogated someone on this case."

"If you don't mind detective, Agent Morgan and I will be conducting the interrogation," Hotch told the detective as he and Morgan entered the room.

"Okay Learner, let's get started," Hotch began after they'd closed the door.

Learner's look dismissed Morgan. "I'll speak to Agent Hotchner…alone."

"Listen you piece of crap," Morgan began angrily only to be cut off by Learner.

"Agent Morgan, could we please dispense with the good cop, bad cop routine or the idea that you and I are somehow brothers from the hood. We most definitely are not. I repeat, I will speak to Agent Hotchner, alone."

Morgan looked over at Hotch for direction and the unit chief motioned with his head for the younger man to leave the room. "Hotch, you can't let him dictate the terms of the interrogation."

"Leave it Morgan," Hotch replied and motioned again towards the door. Reid, Prentiss, Rossi and Dryden could almost see the steam coming from Morgan as he slammed the door of the interrogation room.

"Okay," Hotch started again when he was once more interrupted by Learner.

"Turn off the intercom."

"What?" Hotch asked.

"You heard me. Turn off the intercom." The observers in the anteroom exchanged looks with one another as Hotch stood and walked over to the wall flipping the switch on the intercom, gesturing with his hand that the green light was off.

"Satisfied?" Learner gave a brief nod of his head. "We've already figured out you're not who you say you are," Hotch began. "We suspect you're in the witness protection program and Rafferty was about to reveal your identity so you killed him."

Learner gave a brief laugh. "That's the best you could come up with? I would have expected more from the famous David Rossi and the illustrious Spencer Reid with his 187 IQ, his three doctorates, his two BAs and his eidetic memory." Hotch willed his stern face not to betray his confusion as to what this man knew about his team. "Why am I here? Have you come up with some evidence?"

"A prostitute identified you as the man who asked her to make a call at the Comfort Inn on the night of the murder using a Mexican accent, to leave a message for Rafferty to come to room 321, thus setting him up to be killed and framing Theresa Montoya."

"A prostitute," his lips pursed together and he nodded, "a reliable witness, I'm sure," Learner replied.

"Why would she lie?" Hotch asked. He didn't like this man's smug attitude.

"Oh I don't know, possibly Blake or Ashburn paid her a lot of money to say that. The plan of trying to frame Montoya obviously hadn't gotten anywhere. You have no proof to the contrary do you? Someone who'd spread her legs with a stranger for a C note, wouldn't draw the line at making a phone call for a big payday and then lying about it afterward, now would she?"

"Rafferty was looking into Dale Wright and by extension, you, but you couldn't take that kind of scrutiny could you?" Hotch asked bluntly. "You couldn't risk someone finding out who you really are. We know this because our own analyst has been looking into your life and she hasn't been able to find out anything since you adopted the persona of Marvin Learner."

"I'm well aware of technical analyst Garcia's activities and I suggest that she cease and desist unless she wants dour looking men from Langley coming into her office and removing her from her computer as a threat to national security. She is on a list, you know."

"Did you say Langley?" Hotch asked, stunned. No wonder Garcia had had no luck tracing Marvin Learner's identity. Learner nodded. "You're CIA?"

Learner glanced at the wall once again to make sure the intercom was off. He nodded. "I've been under deep cover for two years now since I infiltrated a homegrown terrorist organization. They learned through their last attempt with Jind Allah that messages sent by computer, even in code, can be intercepted. Since then they've chosen to hand deliver messages. Commercial flight manifests are monitored by DHS. Young men traveling alone to numerous places throughout the country are especially suspect. Even bus station CCTV is monitored."

"But a guy traveling on a tour bus of a gospel singer wouldn't be suspect," Hotch added. "The attack on Wright that first brought you into contact was…"

"Staged by the cell to get me into position as his bodyguard. I carry information between cells. I only know bits and pieces of the plan. No one is privy to the whole thing. I'm sure you understand that since you were involved in that mayhem in New York. How are your ears, by the way?" he asked but didn't wait for an answer. "So I gather as much information as I can to protect this country from another 9/11. Rafferty with his investigation into Dale would have made the members of the group wary and may have jeopardized my mission. It was a judgment call, a minimal loss scenario, if you will. The loss of one man to preserve my place within the network and perhaps save thousands, seemed like a no brainer."

"It's too bad Rafferty never realized that investigating Dale Wright would get him nowhere. Dale is one of the few people I've met in my life who's exactly what he appears to be. I asked him after the marijuana incident why he hadn't asked me to get it for him. I could have gotten it and no one would have known. Dale told me he knew what he was doing was illegal and he'd never ask that of a friend. Sadly he has no idea that his "friend" lies to him every day of his life."

"I understand why you might want to get rid of Rafferty but why frame Theresa Montoya?" Hotch asked.

"She was convenient. I needed the investigators to look elsewhere than at me. Everything pointing to her was circumstantial. I did everything but hang a sign around her neck that said, 'Hey look at me, I'm being framed.' Why do you think you were brought in on this case? It's definitely not your usual type of case but I knew Dryden wouldn't look past the frame up, he obviously couldn't find his ass with a map, and your team would. My boss at the agency called Senator Bishop who called Erin Strauss."

"Look, face it; you don't have enough to hold me. The word of a hooker won't hold up in court. That's why I chose one. No one will remember seeing us together. I made sure of it." Learner paused for a moment and there was silence in the room. "So you solved the case. You can let your team go on believing I'm in witness protection and that's why you had to let me go. With a few variations, it's almost the truth. It's a good story to tell Dryden, he'll buy it. If he bought Montoya being guilty he'll buy anything." He stood up and headed for the door. Hotch made no attempt to stop him. "By the way," he turned back, "Miss Montoya doesn't have to worry. She'll receive any scholarship and get into any culinary school she applies to." Hotch raised his eyebrows slightly. "We have very good hackers at Langley too." He opened the door and strode past the other agents without as much as a look.

"We're just letting him go?" Reid asked.

"We don't have enough to hold him. We don't have anything that will hold up in court," the unit chief told them.

"He must be a pretty valuable witness," Rossi asked looking suspiciously at Hotch.

"Yeah, you could say he's pretty valuable."


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

----------------------

The team filed into the BAU. Detective Dryden had been wholly dismayed that his criminal was not going to be brought to justice. The team could tell that Hotch was annoyed with that outcome as well. "Alright everyone, get started on your reports. When they're done, that's it for the day. Let's get out of here at a decent hour for once."

Reid knocked on Garcia's door. "Enter, your goddess awaits."

"Uh, hi Garcia, can I talk to Theresa for a minute?"

"Sure, come on sweet stuff," she told Fletcher as she put her hands on the boy's shoulders and walked him out in front of her. "Let's see if Chuck restocked the candy machine."

Theresa closed her book. "Spencer, is something wrong?"

"No, as a matter of fact everything is great. We know who killed Rafferty so you're off the hook. That means you're a free woman. The police are no longer interested in you."

Theresa's eyes widened and she smiled broadly, "It is really true?" she asked.

------------------

Fletcher began to unwrap his Snickers bar as the pair walked back to Garcia's office. "I don't think we should have left them alone in your office," Fletcher announced.

"Why do you say that sweetie?"

"I'm not saying anything but certain things seem to happen when those two are alone together."

"Oh really!" Garcia smirked and her own eyes grew big. Wait till the girls found out about this.

"Garcia," Theresa said delightedly when the computer tech returned to her office with Fletcher, "you do not have to put up with Fletcher and me any more. I am free to go around as I wish." She hugged Garcia warmly.

"Really Theresa," Fletcher said throwing his arms around the woman he loved like a mother.

"Si, mi chico pequeño precioso," she said as she kissed the top of the boy's head. She turned to Reid, "I must go thank everyone." She headed for the door. Reid, Fletcher and Garcia followed the young woman as she practically ran up the hallway to the BAU. Morgan, Emily and JJ were in the bullpen when she entered and ran to Emily with her arms extended. "Gracias Emily," she hugged the brunette profiler close, "for all you did for me." She turned to the others, "All of you," she said as she hugged them as well. "I must go up and thank Agent Hotchner and Agent Rossi," she bounded for the stairs.

"And once we're all finished our reports," JJ added, "the four of us," she indicated the women, "are going shopping."

---------------------

"What about this," Emily asked as she held up a suit in a creamy yellow, one of the many offerings on the racks at Chic, a trendy women's boutique that featured everyday apparel along with business and formal wear. "This would go great with your coloring."

"It's conservative enough to wear for business or to meet Emily's mother," JJ agreed, "but it's not austere. It's young and vibrant and that's the image you're trying to project."

"Oh and look," Garcia said as she ran up with numerous silk scarves draped over her arm. "You could jazz it up with a scarf for a completely different look." She placed the scarves next to the suit in sequence, the first a geometric design with brown and coppery tones, the second a mixture of bright greens and blues and the third a medley of purples and mauves.

Theresa stood back and surveyed the suit. It was lovely with a slightly flared skirt and a fitted waist length jacket that featured crocheted detail at the bottom. "I do like it," she said, "and the scarves are lovely with it. I especially like the purple."

Emily, JJ and Garcia raised their eyebrows. "So she likes the purple scarf. I wonder why," Emily whispered to the others before handing the suit and scarf off to Ellen, the salesgirl to take back to the fitting room.

The girls helped Theresa pick out a few other choices. Garcia came up with a low cut sexy nightgown and showed it to the others. "I do not think I need a nightgown," Theresa told them.

"You never know, it might come in handy," Emily remarked as the threesome led Theresa to the fitting rooms. Ellen said she had put them in room two as room one was already occupied.

Theresa tried on the yellow suit, thinking it did look good on her as she twirled in front of the mirror. "Let's see," she heard Garcia say from outside. She opened the door and modeled the suit for the other women.

"That looks great on you," Emily and JJ said in unison while Garcia accented it with the purple scarf. "You make sure Reid doesn't try to borrow that purple scarf from you. The one he wears now looks damn good on him."

The woman in the next stall stopped with a top half over her blond head and listened. _Reid! Purple scarf! _It couldn't be she thought as she listened more closely to the women, the clothes forgotten.

Theresa tried on a few other things including a simple black dress that the girls insisted she just had to have. They continued to tease her about Reid as she put the floor length nightgown over her head. She had to admit it showed off all her curves. The peach color contrasted beautifully with her hair and her complexion. She opened the door of the fitting room.

"Oh my God, that looks fabulous on you," Garcia exclaimed. "You just have to get it. Wait until Spencer Reid sees you in that."

_Spencer Reid! _There couldn't be two of them could there?

"Garcia, just because I am living in his apartment does not mean that we are lovers." Theresa chided her new friend.

"Not yet. But you'd like to be, admit it. Fletcher tells me "certain things" happen when you two are alone together."

_Living with him! Fletcher! _There was no doubt now that they were talking about the same Spencer Reid. She removed the top she'd been set to try on. There was no need now. She didn't need something new for her dinner with Spencer. She opened the door of the fitting room and almost ran into a pretty blonde, one of three women who were standing outside the fitting rooms and obviously knew Spencer. Phoebe Coulter hurried out of the changing area and ran through the store to the outdoors before the tears that were threatening at the back of her eyes started to run down her cheeks in earnest.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-------------------------------

The sound of the slamming door reverberated throughout the small apartment as some of her grandmother's dishes, housed in the antique china cabinet that had belonged to her great grandmother and stood against the far wall, shook and rattled. Phoebe didn't notice. She threw her purse on the chair, kicking off her shoes and throwing herself down on the couch. How could she have been such an idiot? She should have known he was too good to be true. How likely was it that she, Phoebe Coulter, would find a guy that was attractive, funny, caring, smart and nerdy about the same subjects as she was? He was so perfect or so she'd thought. Now she discovered he had a woman living with him and even though she'd said they weren't lovers, Phoebe knew the woman would strive to make that happen.

She glanced at the framed picture on her bookcase. She was a teenager in the beloved photograph with her mother, her grandmother and her great grandmother. The two older women were gone now. Her great grandmother had been 94 when she died. She'd been married to Phoebe's great grandfather for 65 years when he'd died. She'd never slept beside another man. Her grandmother had been 75 when metastases from breast cancer had claimed her. Her grandfather still grieved every day. Why couldn't she find a love like that, someone who loves you so much that even your death doesn't diminish his love for you?

She'd thought for a moment that she might have found that someone when she'd met Spencer and they had so much in common. She could see how he cared for young Fletcher. He just couldn't care for her in the same way she thought as she went to the china cabinet, running her fingers over the dark mahogany that her grandfather had lovingly sanded, stained and varnished by hand restoring it to its former glory, and removed a wine glass. She'd bought a bottle of nice red zinfandel with thoughts of inviting the good doctor back for a nightcap after dinner. She wouldn't need it now. She reached into the oak cupboard and pulled out the bottle, removed the paper and uncorked it. Pouring herself a glass she headed back to the couch but then stopped and turned to retrieve the bottle of wine and bring it with her. "It's just you and me," she said as she set it on the coffee table.

--------------------------

"I do not think it is right that I use the credit card Ms. Fletcher gave me," Theresa told the girls as they walked out of Chic to Emily's car.

"Look at it this way," Garcia told her. "You haven't resigned yet so technically you still work for her. She gave you a card with a limit, so I say, go for the limit."

"They've been taking advantage of you for so long, they owe you at least this much," JJ added.

Theresa nodded, seeing the logic in what the girls were saying. "So where do we go now?" she asked.

The three women looked at one another and said in unison, "Shoes."

Theresa was laughing when they entered the stylish shoe store after a short drive. "What's so funny?" Emily asked.

"Spencer was telling me," Theresa related, "that shopping was a rite of passage for women and he gave me two years to have a closet full of shoes. I have a very hard time to imagine that. When I was a little girl, we sometimes did not have shoes. I have a long way to go."

"Well then, let's get you off to a good start," JJ said as a pair of T strap stilettos caught her eye. "I wonder if they have those in my size."

-----------------------

Phoebe sat cross legged on her couch, her third glass of wine sitting on the table in front of her. She grabbed a Dorito out of the bag she'd gotten from the kitchen and bit into it, ignoring the crumbs that fell onto her blouse, as she watched Comedy Central. Somehow tonight she wasn't finding it very funny. Nothing was funny right now she decided as she reached for her wine. Why wouldn't it make her forget the cute guy in the brown jacket and the purple scarf she thought as she downed the glass and reached for the bottle?

------------------------

"I think I should be getting back to the apartment," Theresa said as they came out of the shoe store. She'd gotten a pair of black pumps and a pair of taupe T straps with a three inch heel. "I have never walked on anything like this in my life," she'd told her friends.

"What's your hurry?" Garcia asked.

"I have to cook dinner for Fletcher and Spencer," the Mexican beauty replied.

"Oh no you don't," Emily exclaimed. "Reid is a big boy. He can take care of himself and Fletcher. We are going to have dinner at Mario's and then it's girls' night out."

"Woo hoo," JJ and Garcia bellered loudly.

"We haven't done this in like way too long," JJ said.

"Be prepared for some major fun Theresa," Garcia told her as they reached Emily's car.

"Okay, I guess it will be alright with Spencer."

----------------------

"How long is Theresa going to be shopping?" Fletcher asked as his knight took Spencer's pawn.

"I don't know, I'm not really into female shopping habits." Reid said as he studied the board. He hadn't played a lot since Gideon had left. He and Emily had had a few games on plane flights home but he had to admit he missed the games he'd played with his mentor. They were a special form of camaraderie. He wondered if Fletcher would feel that way about the games they shared in the years to come. He hoped so. The boy was excellent at the game, not surprising considering his intelligence. "I suppose we should start thinking about dinner," he said as he glanced from the chessboard to his watch.

"Are you a good cook?" Fletcher asked.

"I'm nothing like Theresa, if that's what you're asking, why?"

"Maybe we should order in."

----------------

After a delicious meal of chicken pasta primavera, one of Mario's specialties, and a bottle of Merlot, the foursome were now ensconced at a table in Houston's, a country and western bar that the team sometimes frequented after a hard day. The stage looked out over a huge dance floor surrounded on three sides by tables for four. The music was surprisingly good and many of the patrons danced in time to the country beat. Theresa had never been to a place like this and tried to look everywhere at once to take it all in. She seemed mesmerized by the dancers as her own feet tapped in time to the music while her friends remarked on some of the handsome men in the crowd. The waitress arrived with their drinks as the girls related the story of how some guy had tried to hit on Emily one night claiming to be a "real" FBI agent.

-----------------------

"I think it's time for you to get ready for bed," Reid said as he stored the remainder of the pizza they'd eaten for dinner in the refrigerator.

"Shouldn't I wait until Theresa gets home?"

"It's getting kind of late. I think you sh…" Reid was interrupted by the downstairs buzzer. "Yeah," he said into the intercom.

"Hi Spencer," was loudly squeaked through the intercom. "Izz me."

"Theresa?"

"Chezz, izz me."

"Hurry up Reid, open the door," Reid heard Emily say from the background.

Reid pushed the button releasing the door and waited until he heard footsteps approaching in the hallway. He opened the door just as Theresa was about to knock and the young woman stumbled forward into the room and would have fallen had Reid not caught her in his arms. The unmistakable smell of alcohol wafted through the air assaulting his olfactory senses.

"Woopzz," she said as she held onto Reid for support. "Hi Spencer," she giggled.

"Hi Theresa," Reid raised his eyebrows then glared at the girls.

"Hi Fletcher," she squealed, sounding surprised to see him there. The boy's eyes grew large as she released herself from Spencer and staggered into the living room as if each step was an adventure. She put her arms out like she was on a tightrope and they would aid her balance. It didn't appear to be working. Theresa finally lurched to the couch and fell rather than sat on the soft fabric. She righted herself, smiled and gazed dazedly at her companions.

Reid turned a scowl on the three women. "Well," Garcia said in their defense, "how were we to know she couldn't hold her liquor and after two glasses of wine and a couple of beers she'd be a little tipsy."

"A little tipsy," Reid squeaked, "she's totally polluted."

JJ started to laugh, "Reid if you could see your face…" The others started laughing as well.

Reid moved and stood with his back to the door. He reached out his right hand, "Keys."

"Reid we're fine," Emily said, raising her hand and holding it in front of him to demonstrate its steadiness but Reid refused to budge.

"Keys," he said again.

Emily sighed and put down the Chic bag she'd been carrying and fished in her purse for her keys. She plopped them angrily into Reid's outstretched hand. "Satisfied?"

"Nowhere near," he said as he walked to the kitchen counter and picked up the cordless phone. He punched in some numbers ordering three cabs to his apartment building. "So, I take it you had some fun this evening?" he remarked while waiting for the cabs to arrive.

"Whazza matter Spencer? Are you mad tha I did no cook dinner?" Theresa attempted to stand but dizziness had her falling back on the sofa again. "Woopzzy," she squealed bursting into uncontrolled giggles.

"No, no, I'm not mad at you. You better stay sitting down." He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Chezzir," she said as she saluted and burst into laughter again.

The intercom buzzed indicating the cabs had arrived. "Fletcher, you and Theresa stay here. I'm going to make sure the ladies get safely to their cabs. I'll bring your car in the morning," he told Emily.

Reid was leaning against the kitchen island while Fletcher was sitting on the granite countertop his legs dangling over the edge. They both had their arms crossed and were looking at Theresa like she was a specimen under a microscope. "What do we do now?" the boy asked.

"We wait," Reid replied.

"For what?"

"That remains to be seen. It could be a long night."


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

--------------------------

Theresa's eyelids fluttered slowly at first but then more quickly as she got sleepier. "Time for bed I think." Reid said as he approached the inebriated woman.

"No, I do no need to go to bed. Izz early," she giggled.

Reid took her arm to help her to her feet. "Let me help you."

"I do no need help. Zzee," she said as she stood slowly with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances and almost fell flat on her face. Reid reached out to support her. "I am lil dizzy," she admitted as they began to walk to the bedroom.

"Just hold onto me," Reid said as he led her into the bedroom. "Just stand there and I'll pull back the covers." Reid reached over and folded the bedspread back then turned down the sheets. "There you g…oh!"

"I am having trouble wizza buttonzz," Theresa giggled. She had the top three buttons of her blouse undone giving Reid a very good view of her cleavage and the lacy bra that covered her breasts. She was fumbling with the fourth. "I got zzome new clothezz and shoezz. Wan to zzee." She moved to turn but was overcome by dizziness and needed to, once again be caught by Reid before she hit the floor. "Woopzz."

"How about you show me in the morning?" Reid suggested.

"Okay," she said brightly. "Had fun with Elimy, JJ and Garzzia. Zzleepy now."

"Uh huh, alright, you sit on the bed and I'll take your shoes off," Reid said as Theresa sat and he removed her shoes. "You lay down and I'll cover you up."

"I still have clothezz on," she said as she started fumbling with the buttons again. "You do no wan me to take zem off?"

"Th…that's okay, you can sleep in your clothes this once."

"Head feelzz funny." She laid her head on the pillow.

Reid covered her, moved her shoes and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and put on his own sleep clothes. He opened Fletcher's door. The boy was fast asleep, the moonlight falling on his blonde curls. Now that things were more settled with Theresa, other than the fact that she was lying in his bed, plastered, he could get Fletcher enrolled and settled at Weinthorpe. The child needed to get back to a regular routine. He'd miss him but at least he'd be nearby and they could see a lot of each other. He'd have to make sure Theresa had access to him as well, he thought, as he lifted the lid on the huge ottoman and took out his sheets, blanket and pillow.

Reid was dozing lightly when he heard a groan and a thump from the bedroom. He sprang off the couch and dashed to the bedroom to find Theresa leaning on the dresser for support as she made her way to the door. "Do not feel so good," she said when she saw him in the moonlight that filtered into the room. Reid hurried her to the bathroom where he held her head and kept her hair back as she lost the contents of her stomach. When she'd finished he got her to rinse her mouth and wiped her face with a damp cloth. "I am sorry," she said through tears that leaked from her eyes.

"That's okay; it happens, let's get you back to bed." Reid helped Theresa back to his bed and was just sitting her on the edge when his cell rang. "Not now," he whispered. "Stay there," he admonished as he ran to get his cell. It better not be a case. That's all he needed right now. He picked up his cell that was charging on the island and flipped it open, "Yeah, Reid."

"Spencer," said a female voice that sounded tearful and angry at the same time.

"Yes," Reid replied wondering who was calling him at, he glanced at the illuminated numbers on his stove, 1:04 am. It wasn't one of the girls; he knew their voices.

"You could have told me. You didn't have to lead me on, letting me think you were this great guy when you're just like all the others."

Reid squinted his eyes. What the hell was going on? "Who is this and what are you talking about?"

"It's Phoebe of course, or have you been lying to other women besides me?"

Phoebe, it didn't really sound like Phoebe, unless…"Phoebe," he tried to ask tactfully, "have you been drinking?"

"What if I have? It's no business of yours. You could have told me you were living with someone instead of just leading me on, but no, you lie and let me think you're interested in me when you're living with another woman."

"You mean Theresa? She and I…we're not…"

"Quit lying," she screamed through the phone. "Fletcher said certain things happen when you and Theresa," she said the woman's name in a sarcastic nasal tone, "are alone together."

_Fletcher! _He knew the boy had hopes for him and Theresa and that he saw Phoebe as something of an interloper but to actually call and tell her things to try and thwart any chance of a relationship between them was hard to believe. He supposed it was possible. He realized Fletcher saw Theresa and himself as family and perhaps it was his way of protecting the only family he thought he had now.

He heard moaning and noises again from the bedroom. Theresa was on the move again. "I can't talk now. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Don't bother," Reid heard the call ending. Oh well, he had no time to think about that now he thought as he ran to the bedroom to lead the nauseous Theresa to the bathroom to empty her stomach yet again.

From behind him he heard a small voice say excitedly, "Is she puking? Oh, gross!" before he shut the door firmly in the boy's face.

Fletcher was still standing in the hallway when Reid brought Theresa out of the bathroom, "Is she okay?" the boy asked.

"She will be, go back to bed," Reid's tone was clipped as he carried on into the bedroom with Theresa and once again settled her into bed. He found the youngster still hadn't moved from the hallway. "I thought I told you to go to bed."

"Are you mad?"

"Hell no, why would I be mad," he raised his voice and Fletcher winced. Theresa, on the other hand was passed out and heard nothing. "Because my so called friends bring Theresa back so drunk she can barely stand. Then I get a phone call from another woman, who's also totally plastered I might add, and she's pissed at me because.. Never mind that, now's not the time. We'll talk in the morning and, believe me, we will talk. Now go back to bed." The look on Spencer's face brooked no argument and the blonde head went back to his room, closing the door almost silently behind him.

Reid sat on the sofa, any thought of sleep forgotten. He couldn't believe that Fletcher would do that to him but Phoebe had told him that Fletcher had said it and he was the only one who knew. Was the child so insecure now to believe that if he got involved with Phoebe he would forget about him? Didn't he understand that any woman he became involved with would have to understand that when you got him, you got Fletcher. Phoebe had seemed to perfectly understand that and even applaud it. There would have to be a discussion in the morning between the three of them though Theresa was not likely to be up for it. She had her meeting with Ambassador Prentiss today as well. Thank God it was later in the afternoon. He laid back on the couch and closed his eyes. Hopefully Theresa would sleep the rest of the night and they'd deal with the morning when it came.


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-------------------------

Reid had showered and dressed for the day in black dress pants, a blue shirt and a black sweater vest with white trim. A tie of black and white diamonds completed his look. He was on his second cup of coffee when Fletcher entered the kitchen gingerly, still dressed in his navy and grey striped pajamas and bare feet, his blonde hair tousled from sleep. "Morning Spencer," he said quietly as if wary of his guardian's wrath.

"Good morning," Reid said softly as he leafed through the paper. "Sit," Fletcher took a seat on one of the stools by the island. "Theresa won't be getting us a fancy breakfast this morning." He took a bowl out of the cupboard along with two glasses and reached into a drawer for a knife and spoon. He grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry. He poured orange juice in one glass and milk into the other, adding cereal to the bowl, slicing a banana into it and topping the mixture with more milk before returning the juice and milk to the refrigerator and the cereal to the pantry. "Eat."

"Is Theresa okay?" Fletcher asked while he took a spoonful of banana and crispy flakes.

"She will be once it wears off."

"Was she sick any more after I went to bed?" Fletcher asked as he crunched his cereal.

Reid nodded, "A couple of times. She's slept for about four hours straight now though so she's probably over that part. She's not likely to feel very well when she gets up but I hope she'll be over it by the time she has to see Ambassador Prentiss."

"Spencer, are you mad at me because I got up when Theresa was puking?"

Reid sighed, "No, I'm not mad at you for that. You were curious and concerned. That part I can understand."

"Then why are you mad at me? I can tell that you are."

Well, Reid thought, there was no time like the present to get it over with. "Did you call Phoebe and tell her about the times you saw Theresa and me kiss?"

The blue eyes widened, "No, I've never spoken to Phoebe except at the science fair."

"Then why would she say you did?"

"She said that! Phoebe said that I phoned her? Why would she lie?"

"Yes Fletcher, why would she? I know that you have ideas about me and Theresa. I know you feel that we would get together if it wasn't for Phoebe. So maybe you felt if Phoebe knew about the times that Theresa and I kissed, which you have totally misinterpreted by the way, then she would be mad at me leaving the coast clear for Theresa."

"I never called her, I swear."

"She told me that you said "certain things" happen when Theresa and I are alone together and I can guess what you meant by that. I mean, it had to be you; you were the only one who was aware of it. Did you say that?"

"Yus," the boy replied, his mouth full of cereal.

"So now you admit it?"

Fletcher swallowed his mouthful. "I admit that I said it but I didn't say it to her. How come you won't believe me? In San Francisco when everyone thought I was lying, you were the only one who believed me, why don't you believe me now?"

"It's not that I don't believe you but when she tells me something that only you could know, what should I think?"

"I swear," the boy's blue eyes began to tear as he pleaded to be believed. "I never talked to Phoebe."

Best to start at the beginning, Reid thought. "Okay, who did you say it to?"

"Garcia."

"Garcia?" Reid's eyes squinted and his mouth opened. "I don't even think Garcia knows Phoebe. Maybe Garcia told Morgan and he told Phoebe. Why would Morgan tell Phoebe something like that? The answer is he wouldn't. He's juggled enough women to know better than that. He'd be more likely to tease me about it."

The answer seemed simple to Fletcher. "Why don't you just ask Phoebe who told her?"

The fact that the boy suggested this told Reid that Fletcher hadn't told Phoebe himself. "Yeah, I could do that but I don't want to be blindsided by her answer like I was by the phone call."

"Was she really mad?"

"Oh yeah, called me a liar, said she thought I was different but now realizes I'm just like all the rest."

"Well," Fletcher put his spoon down and raised two fingers, "we can deduce two things from that."

Reid's mouth curved into a tiny smirk, "And what would those two things be, lil' genius buddy of mine?"

"First," Fletcher held up his index finger, "if she was really mad that means she really likes you a lot."

"And secondly?" Reid asked.

The boy held up his second finger. "She really doesn't know you very well or she'd know you're not like anybody else."

Reid nodded his head, "Very insightful Fletcher."

Fletcher had returned to his cereal. "I'm practicing for when I grow up and become a profiler like you."

A painful groan and some shuffling alerted the pair that Theresa had risen. She came out of the bedroom moving very slowly. Her hair seemed to go in every direction. Her clothes were askew and wrinkled. She had bags under her bloodshot eyes.

"Hi Theresa," Theresa winced at the sound of Fletcher's voice.

"I think I am going to die," Theresa admitted as she walked slowly toward the kitchen.

Reid opened the freezer and pulled out a tray of ice cubes and handed it to Fletcher. "Get Theresa two glasses of ice water." Reid pulled a skillet from the bottom of the stove, ran some water in it and put it on to heat. He then left the room returning a few moments later with three bottles of pills. He placed two pills on the countertop. "Ibuprofen for the headache," another two joined them, "Thiamine," and lastly two oval tablets, "Vitamin B12.

"Spencer, I do not think…" Theresa began as Fletcher put the water down in front of her.

"You don't have to think right now. Leave that to Fletcher and me. But I do want you to do what I say," Reid babbled quietly. "I want you to drink those two glasses of water. Alcohol is dehydrating. Then I want you to drink a glass of orange juice and" he reached into the fridge again and pulled out a bottle of dill pickles and poured some of the juice into a glass, "this and a glass of milk. The OJ will help with the hypoglycemia, the pickle juice will help restore your electrolyte balance and the milk and poached egg I'm going to make contain cysteine which is a non essential amino acid that…oh, never mind that, it combats acetaldehyde, the major by product of alcohol metabolism, especially when combined with Thiamine," he pointed to the middle two pills. "I suppose you drank red wine, that's all Garcia drinks. Too bad, it's got more congeners, a by product of alcohol fermentation, than white wine does. Congeners tend to exaggerate the symptoms of a hangover. Alcohol consumption also depletes vitamin B12 so…"

"Spencer," Theresa interrupted.

"Yeah."

"Shut up."


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

------------------------

Reid knocked softly on Garcia's door and poked his head in. "Can I talk to you Garcia?"

The computer tech swiveled around in her chair to face him, dressed today in a royal blue tunic with a fitted bodice that showed just the tiniest hint of cleavage and three quarter length sleeves. It flared to her hips where it was accompanied by a matching skirt. The ensemble also matched the streak in her blonde hair which, at the moment, was a deep blue. Her glasses were also blue causing Reid to wonder how many pairs she had. He only had one pair besides his contacts. He couldn't imagine having glasses to match everything he wore though, in his case, it wouldn't be such a problem since his wardrobe was nowhere near as colorful as Garcia's. The scent of her lilac perfume wafted toward him reminding him of the refreshing smell outdoors after a summer rain. It was like she'd been sent to them on purpose, to be their rainbow through all the storms they faced. He wondered if she realized that the brightness and warmth of her colorful personality came through even when she was just a voice on the phone.

Reid chastised himself for not thinking more about Garcia. She saw the same crime scene photos. She knew what their unsubs did and she sifted through reams of information to get the team what they needed when they needed it. The team had each other and the local police for understanding and support. They had a chance to unwind and debrief on the flight home. But Garcia sat here alone, her soft roundness in contrast to the square screens and hard edges she existed in with only the occasional phone call and the sound of the keys clicking as her hands flew over them to drown out the cries of the victims. When their plane touched down, all they wanted to do was forget. They never thought to check on Garcia. Reid made a mental note that from now on before he went home after a case, he'd make the time to look in on his friend.

"Sure sweet thing, how's Theresa this morning?"

"Well, she's not great, pretty hung over," he began as he walked into the computer sanctuary and closed the door. "She was up half the night throwing up. I hope she's recovered by this afternoon when she has to see Ambassador Prentiss. Getting this position is really important for her future. You guys really couldn't have picked a worse night to go out and get her hammered."

"That wasn't our intention Reid, really. I mean, we're all fine. We had no idea that Theresa couldn't hold her liquor. If we'd realized sooner we would have gotten her out of there. If it's any help, at dinner Emily gave her some great pointers on how to handle the Ambassador."

"I just hope she can remember them." Reid began to pace the room.

"That's not why you came in here, is it sugar? What's on your mind?"

"Okay, this is going to sound really strange but last night I got a call from Phoebe Coulter. She's the woman that Morgan had me go on a blind date with and we went to the science fair the next day." Garcia nodded her understanding. "Last night she calls me at 1 am…" Reid relayed Phoebe's condition and the gist of the call. "So there I am trying to deal with two drunken women. Believe me, one is more than enough."

"Oh you poor baby," Garcia said with mock sympathy.

"This is serious Garcia. Okay, I kissed Theresa twice and both times it wasn't what it seemed like to Fletcher. I like Theresa, don't get me wrong. She's a beautiful woman and, well, I'm a guy." He ignored the smirk on Garcia's face and continued to pace. "But Theresa's been so mistreated by the men in her life that she could be latching on to me because I'm the first man who's treated her decently. Theresa needs to discover who she really is before she can be with someone else."

"And Phoebe," the computer tech raised her eyebrows.

"She's a lovely woman too. She was fun to be with and we have a lot in common. I was looking forward to exploring a relationship with her and, oddly enough, I think she felt the same way. But now she seems to think I'm some kind of lying womanizer. Fletcher swears he never said anything to Phoebe and I believe him. The only person he said that to was you."

"He did say that Reid but I never told this Phoebe person. I never told anybody."

"Then how would she know?" He shook his head. "Okay, thanks Garcia. I just thought I'd ask. I'll see you later." He headed for the door, closing it silently behind him.

Garcia turned to the wall of computers. "Alright Phoebe Coulter, let's see who you are and why you've got my sweet boy's shirt in a knot, womanizer indeed." Her fingers began to fly over the keyboard.

------------------

Emily and JJ were in Garcia's office looking at a picture of Phoebe Coulter. "She looks oddly familiar to me in some way," Garcia said, "yet I know I don't know her."

"I know what you mean," Emily replied. "I feel I've seen her somewhere before too."

"I know where it was," JJ piped up suddenly. "She almost ran into me yesterday at Chic. She came rushing out of the fitting room when we were there with Theresa."

Garcia's mind flashed back to the remark she'd made when Theresa had tried on the nightgown. This Phoebe had been listening to them talk about Spencer and Theresa. No wonder Phoebe thought Reid was a womanizer. "I think we may have caused some problems for our sweet boy."

-----------------------

Theresa was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when Reid showed up to take her to her appointment with Ambassador Prentiss. "You look very nice Theresa," Reid said when she emerged from the bathroom in her cream yellow suit and the taupe T strap shoes. Her eyes were no longer bloodshot and the bags were gone or hidden by makeup, he wasn't sure which. She appeared to be steady on her feet with no outward signs of the condition she'd been in last night.

"Do you really think so? Do you think Ambassador Prentiss will like me?"

"Of course she'll like you. What's not to like?"

"I am so afraid I will say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and she will not want me," Reid could see her hands were shaking and her bottom lip trembled.

"If it makes you feel any better, we all feel that way when we're going to be interviewed. Even though I knew the FBI wanted me, when I went for my first interview I was a basket case and I'm a genius with three doctorates. Just be who you are and that's a lovely person who happens to be a terrific cook and if I'm not mistaken that's exactly what Ambassador Prentiss is looking for."

"Ches Spencer, you are right, thank you." Theresa put her head down. "I am sorry about last night. Thank you for what you did for me last night and this morning."

"That's okay Theresa. That's what friends are for. Now let's go and get you started on your life's new adventure." Reid, Theresa and Fletcher headed for the door.

---------------------

Reid and Fletcher sat in the car a little ways from the Prentiss mansion listening to golden oldies that were popular before either of them was alive. They both jumped when a man knocked on Reid's driver's side window. He rolled down the window to see the man dressed in black pants a white shirt and an olive green vest. "Excuse me sir but Ambassador Prentiss wondered if you wished to come into the residence and have some refreshments while you're waiting for Miss Montoya."

"Oh, no, we really don't want to put anybody out," Reid replied.

"I assure you sir, it will bother the Ambassador more that she left someone sitting in their car in the driveway. Please, Marion is expecting you." The expression on the man's face pleaded that he did not want to face the wrath of his employer if he failed at the task at hand so Reid and Fletcher got out of Reid's old Volvo and followed him into the house.

Well, it was far more than a house, Reid thought as he looked at the foyer when they walked in. Fletcher seemed similarly taken aback. A huge chandelier hung from the domed ceiling. A beautifully textured Persian rug filled up most of the entryway and the windows were covered with rich gold fabric. A large round table, obviously a very expensive antique sat in the middle of the foyer. A huge urn, another antique, Reid suspected, Chinese, he thought, held a stunning bouquet of flowers.

They followed the man who told them his name was Richard into a drawing room furnished in the Queen Anne style. A settee flanked by two wing chairs upholstered in brocade in various shades of gold and cream faced a stone fireplace. All the tables and chairs featured the distinctive curving legs associated with Queen Anne. The same gold draperies adorned the windows. Reid tried to imagine Emily growing up in a place like this. You wouldn't want to drip your ice cream cone on this furniture. Reid and Fletcher sat on the settee and a woman entered the room dressed in a uniform the same color as Richard's vest. "Hello," she said politely. "I'm Marion, the Ambassador wanted me to serve you some refreshments while you waited." She placed a tray with a pitcher of iced tea, a plate of small sandwiches with the crusts cut off, and another plate that held dainties and some grapes, "Please enjoy."

About an hour later, Reid and Fletcher were becoming restless; Reid had gotten up and surveyed the artwork and ornamental pieces the Prentisses must have picked up from their world travels but had been afraid to touch anything and warned Fletcher not to either. At long last, Ambassador Prentiss and Theresa entered the room, the ambassador had her hand extended, "Dr. Reid, good to see you again," she said shaking his hand. "I trust Marion took good care of you."

"Yes, everything was superb; there was really no need but thank you anyway," Reid replied.

"Nonsense," Emily's mother said with a swipe of her hand. She looked at Fletcher. "You must be Fletcher, it's very nice to meet you," she shook his small hand. "I've told Theresa she can start next week while Marion is still here and she can get the routine down and everything before Marion goes to have her surgery." She turned to Theresa, "I'll look forward to seeing you next week then," she said as she led them to the door.

"Congratulations Theresa," Reid said as they reached the car.

"Gracias Spencer, I am so excited." Theresa sat beside him and relayed the interview. Ambassador Prentiss had made her feel very comfortable speaking mostly in Spanish. "The kitchen is wonderful and my room, well it is much more than a room. There is a bedroom and a bathroom with a little sitting area with a television and a desk. It is nothing like I had at the Bancrofts." Theresa paused for a few moments. "Spencer," she said tentatively, "I have a favor to ask."


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------------

"Hi Phoebe, uh, you really don't know me but I'm a friend of Spencer Reid's and I think it may be my fault that you're angry with him."

"Who is this," the voice responded tersely through Garcia's earpiece, "and how did you get my number?"

"I work for the FBI," the computer tech stated as if that should explain everything. "My name's Penelope Garcia and I'm one of the three stooges that were with Theresa at Chic yesterday. That's where you overheard us talking about Reid, right?"

"What if it was?" the voice challenged. "That doesn't change what he did or what he is."

"Listen here missy," Garcia felt her temperature rise like it was she and not Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego who'd been cast into the fiery furnace. "Spencer Reid is one of the kindest, gentlest and most beautiful souls I've ever had the privilege to know. And if you're willing to throw away a chance at a relationship with him because of something you overheard at a clothing store without giving him a chance to explain, then maybe you're not the woman he thinks you are and you definitely don't deserve him. He was looking forward to exploring a relationship with you but perhaps it's better if he doesn't."

"He said that," her voice rose an octave on the last word reminding Garcia of the way Reid sometimes squeaked, "that he wanted to explore a relationship with me."

"Yes, he said that and, well, the condition you got yourself into when you mistakenly assumed he had someone living with him tells me you might just feel the same way. If you want my advice and even if you don't, you'd be a damn fool to pass up that chance."

"He probably doesn't want anything to do with me now."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that."

--------------------

"A favor," Reid said.

"Ches, I want to thank everyone on the team for all they have done for me. If it was not for you and them I would still be locked up in the jail. The policía, they did not believe me and Agent Hotchner, he made them let me go and everyone looked for the real killer. Emily got me a chance for a job with Ambassador Prentiss. I am so grateful and I was thinking what could I do to repay them and cooking is all I know so I thought I could cook them a nice meal tomorrow night, a Mexican feast."

"You want to have a dinner party?" Reid replied as he maneuvered the car along the winding road that led away from the Prentiss estate.

"It would not have to be fancy. I could do a buffet. It would be fun, ches?"

"Okay, I can ask. I don't know if any of the team have plans but I'll find out. What time do you want it for, about seven?"

"Ches, that would be fine. Now you know what we need to do?" she asked as Reid shook his head. "We must go shopping."

Theresa and Fletcher, along with Reid's credit card were in the supermarket. Theresa had insisted that she wanted this to be her dinner party, her thank you to everyone for their help and she assured Reid she would pay him back for what she spent on it when she got her first paycheck from Ambassador Prentiss. She had told him she could not believe what the ambassador was paying her. It was more than double what she had gotten with the Bancrofts. Reid was left to try and get in touch with the team and invite them. JJ, Morgan, Rossi and Emily had already accepted the invitation. Emily was thrilled to hear that things had gone well with her mother and that Theresa had gotten the position. He was now talking to Hotch. "I'd love to Reid but this is my weekend with Jack."

"I don't want to take any of your time away from him Hotch so I understand but you're welcome to bring him if you want to come. Then Fletcher won't be the only kid there."

Hotch considered this for a moment, "Alright Reid, we'll be there. Do I need to bring anything?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so. But what do I know? I've never had a dinner party before."

He ended his call with Hotch and called Garcia filling her in on Theresa's plan for the next evening. "That sounds great Reid, count me in sweet cheeks." There was silence on the line for a moment. "Reid I found out how Phoebe knew about Theresa. It was my fault." She went on to explain how Phoebe had overheard them from her stall in the change room. "And uh," Garcia squinted her eyes, preparing herself for Reid's reaction, "I called her."

"You did what?" Reid squeaked through the phone.

"It's okay Reid. I think she's still interested but she thinks you won't want anything to do with her now. You need to talk to her."

"What will I say?"

"How about the truth? You were helping out a friend. If she can't understand that then she's not worthy of you."

"Okay Garcia, I guess you're right. I'll see you tomorrow evening. Oh, and Garcia, thanks."

"Anytime sweet boy."

-------------------------

Reid was just closing his phone after trying unsuccessfully to call Phoebe when Theresa and Fletcher approached the car with yet another cart full of groceries. He looked at his watch; she was probably still teaching her last class of the day. His call had gone straight to voice mail but what he wanted, no needed, to say couldn't be said to a recording he thought as he got out of the car and helped load the groceries.

He told Theresa everyone had agreed to come and even the addition of little Jack to the party which appeared to overjoy the young woman. "That is wonderful. I love children," she said and babbled on about her plans for the party. Reid listened with only one ear, the conversation he'd just had with Garcia replaying in his head. After the short drive from the supermarket to his apartment, Reid helped lug all the groceries upstairs and then informed Theresa and Fletcher he had somewhere he had to go. Theresa asked if he would be home for dinner and he'd replied he wasn't sure before leaving the pair with puzzled expressions on their faces.

The drive to Whittier High School was uneventful since rush hour traffic had not begun yet. It was a huge building with a front façade of light brick. Windows ran along all four sides of the building. A large grassy area was visible in the back as his car approached the back parking lot. It housed a football field and also an oval for track. Some students could be seen running around the track while a man in a Whittier windbreaker timed them with a stopwatch. He could see the goalposts on the football field and the sight of them never failed to bring back the fear and humiliation he'd experienced in a field just like this one fifteen years ago. School was just being let out for the day and he could see the teens streaming out in groups of two, three and four. Sometimes girls were together or boys were together or a boy and girl were holding hands, him carrying her book bag. They laughed and discussed plans for the weekend, the homework in their book bags forgotten as soon as they were out the school's doors. They looked so young and innocent to him now but when he had been in high school they had seemed so much older and more sinister. It was funny how time and experience could change your perspective. He sat in the car for a few moments to try to calm his nerves before going into the school. He didn't know if the nerves were a reaction to him being in a high school again or if they were from the thought of talking to Phoebe. It was probably a combination of both, he eventually decided.

He was getting out of his car when a male voice said, "Wow, cool ride man." That was something he didn't hear very often. Morgan was always trying to convince him to get a new one. "Four cylinders, right?" a teen with wavy blond hair that blew around in the breeze asked. "I bet she's got tons of miles on her." He circled the car. "Volvo, the brick," he used his fingers for quotation marks.

"Yes, yes and yes," Reid replied to the young man's questions.

"They don't make 'em like they used to," the boy said and gave Reid a short wave as he walked on. "Have a nice weekend."

"Thanks, you too." Reid entered the school and asked the first student he encountered how he might find Miss Coulter's classroom. Following her directions he soon found himself walking down a long hallway flanked one either side with lockers. In his high school experience this had been like walking a gauntlet daily, waiting for some student to pop out from somewhere and lock him inside one of the thin metal cubicles. It was as if the mere sight of them had the power to scare him. Now they looked like harmless metal and locks but back then it had been frightening like little children believing that a nameless, faceless boogeyman existed under their bed. Unlike most adults who would tell children that these entities were only figments of their active imaginations, he knew different. He had helped put names and faces to many of them. He stopped at the door of room 16A. Phoebe was at the blackboard with two students studying a conglomeration of triangles and squares.

"It doesn't look like anything to me," one of the students moaned unable to hide the hopelessness in her voice.

"Of course it does," Reid said, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "It's Euclid's first proof of the Pythagorean therom. It's more commonly called the bride's chair but also the Franciscan cowl, the peacock's tail or the windmill. It's one of the foundations of Euclidian geometry."

Phoebe had turned her head at the sound of his voice and her eyes widened, "Uh, S…Spencer."


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

------------------------

Reid smiled at the surprise in the soft grey eyes, "W…what are you doing here?" Phoebe asked.

"I came to talk to you. Garcia told me she'd spoken to you. I tried calling but your phone went right to voice mail."

"Uh yeah, she caught me on a free period. I turn my cell off when I'm with the kids." The two students seemed to have forgotten their math problem and were more interested in their teacher and her gentleman caller.

"I can see you're busy right now. Maybe I can wait until you're done or, if you'd like," Reid pointed to the problem on the blackboard, "I could help."

"So you think you'll have better luck huh," the grey eyes twinkled. "Please, be my guest." She motioned with her hand to the two girls at the blackboard.

"This is Jaime-Lynne," she pointed to a girl with a head of beautifully thick and wavy red hair cut in an attractive short bob. Her deep blue eyes looked at him through small wire rimmed glasses she kept pushing up with her right index finger although they did not appear to be sliding down. Reid took this as a nervous gesture that people who wear glasses sometimes have. She had the pale complexion of redheads and her pretty face was covered with freckles and Reid noticed they continued down her arms. She'd look at him briefly and then at the floor. She had, Reid surmised, the worst combination, poor self esteem and low self confidence. She was the mousy little girl that sat at the back of the classroom and never spoke until forced to. Reid nodded to the girl.

"And this is Adrienne," the brunette with her hair piled haphazardly on top of her head and secured with a butterfly clip smiled at him. She had pretty hazel eyes and a heart shaped face centered by a rather long nose adorned with a small clear jewel which, Reid thought for a moment, sadly, drew attention to her least attractive feature rather than diminishing it. She held her head up high and her smile revealed a perfect set of sparkling white teeth. She knew her nose was her worst feature, Reid realized, and she'd accented it on purpose to make a statement, which effectively told the world, "take me as I am or to hell with you." He gave her a brief nod as well.

"Girls, this is Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI," Phoebe informed her students.

"Okay, why don't Jaime-Lynne and I work over here and you and Adrienne can work over there," he told Phoebe as he approached the desks at the far side of the room.

"Divide and conquer," Phoebe asked.

"It's not really that. I'm a guy, what can I say, I can't think straight with three lovely ladies around. One at a time is all I can handle. Jaime-Lynne followed him rather reluctantly to the far side of the room near the window where they could see some of the other students still dallying in the school yard. Reid pulled a desk around so it faced the one behind it. As he sat the thought flashed through his mind that the last time he sat at a desk like this his feet hadn't even touched the floor. "Let's start at the beginning and build the bride's chair instead of starting with the end product and trying to figure it out. He drew a single triangle in the middle of a piece of the girl's note paper.

"You didn't have to say that you know," the teen said when Reid had finished drawing the triangle and started drawing squares off each side.

"I didn't have to say what?" Reid shook his head.

"That stuff about lovely ladies. You know I'm not."

"Not what?"

"Pretty, you know I'm not pretty."

"Uh…I…uh, think you're very pretty."

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Now I know you're lying. I'm just a freckles and four eyes."

"I'm not lying. You have a lot of freckles, yes, and if they bother you, I'm sure you could, um, cover them up with some kind of makeup. Uh, I'm not really the one to have this conversation with. Why don't you ask your mom…?"

"Because my mom is dead."

"Oh, I'm uh, sorry. How long ago? Was she sick?"

"No, she was in a car accident three years ago. She slid on an icy road and hit a semi."

"Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"I have an older brother, Steve. He got a football scholarship to Penn State. He's their quarterback. He's got like almost a 4.0 average. Don't ask about my dad. He's rarely home. He's an accountant and his firm handles finances for a lot of the politicians on Capitol Hill. They can be pretty demanding."

Reid felt for the girl forced to live in the shadow of two overachieving males who were never there for her. "I know something about how you feel," he said.

"Look, I don't want to be rude but you can't know how I feel. How can a smart gorgeous guy know how I feel?"

The gorgeous part took Reid aback for a moment but he decided not to argue. He didn't want her to argue pretty, so he wouldn't argue her assessment of him. "Okay, maybe not exactly in the same way but I have a good idea. You should see me in my glasses," he whispered. "I think I look like a dork." He pointed to his eyes, "Contacts. I didn't have a dad after the age of ten and my mother was ill and not able to look after me so I was on my own like you."

The girl ran her eyes over Reid's face, trying to picture him in dorky looking glasses. "You certainly changed."

"You can too."

Phoebe glanced over from her work with Adrienne and could not believe what she saw. Spencer and Jaime-Lynne did not appear to be doing much work on Euclid's proof of the Pythagorean therom but that didn't matter. The girl was actually talking. Phoebe had been trying for two years to get more than monosyllabic answers from the painfully shy and overly self conscious student and had had no success. She'd even approached the guidance counselor but with so many students with much larger problems, Jaime-Lynne was not deemed a priority.

She tried to concentrate on Adrienne but her mind was split with what was going on on the other side of the room. "That's easy for you to say."

"No, no, it's not easy. Your freckles and your glasses bother you. Maybe you can wear contacts and maybe you can't but even if you can't, your glasses don't have to be a drawback. My best friend is a woman who wears glasses. She has so many pairs. I sometimes think she has a pair to go with every outfit she owns. Some of them are very flamboyant. She wears glasses, and rather than hide the fact, she embraces it. She's on the plump side but she doesn't hide that in black tent dresses. She wears the most vibrant colors that fit her body and show it off. And you know what; you can look in my eyes if you don't believe I'm telling the truth, she is the most beautiful woman I know. You know part of what makes her so beautiful is her attitude. Her attitude tells the world that she thinks she's a beautiful woman and the rest of the world thinks so too. I could introduce you to her if you like. Believe me, one afternoon with her and you'd have a whole new outlook on life." He reached into his inside pocket of his jacket. "This is my card. You call me and I'll introduce you to Garcia. I swear, you'll never regret it." The girl put the card in the inside sleeve of her binder. "Now we better get to work on this problem. I'm already in trouble with the teacher. I don't want to make it worse!"

---------------------

The girls headed out the door finally understanding the mathematical concept. "What was with the long conversation with Jaime-Lynne?" Phoebe asked. "I can barely get two words out of her."

"She has some real problems with self esteem," Reid replied.

"I know that Spencer but how did you manage to get her to talk?"

"I told her I understood some of what she's going through. I've felt like an outcast most of my life. I gave her my card. I hope you don't mind. I'd like to introduce her to Garcia. She could be a big help to that girl."

"No, I don't mind, anything that will help Jaime-Lynne is good to me. Thanks. Speaking of this Garcia person, did you know she's very protective of you?"

"Uh, yeah, Garcia can sometimes be like a mother bear protecting her cub and I usually end up being the cub." The room was silent for a moment. "So, I, uh wondered if you would like to go for coffee and talk. I wanted to kind of clear up a little misconception you have."

Phoebe looked at her watch, "Or dinner," Reid said. "We could do dinner and then you wouldn't have to go home and cook."

"Well that makes a lot of sense," Phoebe replied. "I mean, I am kind of hungry so uh, yeah dinner would be good. Then you'd have more time to, you know, clear up my misconceptions."

"So, uh what do you feel like," Reid asked as they left the classroom.

"Oh, I'm up for just about anything," Phoebe said.

"That's good to know," Reid said as they walked down the hallway, his former fears forgotten as he became lost in the seductive fragrance of her perfume.


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Phoebe and Reid sat in a booth near the window in a quaint little Italian restaurant. Its tables were occupied mostly with couples on a Friday night, likely date night for most of them Reid thought. Was this a date, he wondered. Some tables were covered with gingham tablecloths in a deep green and white while others were covered in red and white gingham in keeping with the Italian theme. The waitress, a rather plump middle aged woman with grey streaks in her black hair which was braided and twirled into a tight chignon at the back of her neck and a thick Italian accent had taken their orders. A single candle in a hurricane lantern burned on the table between them while love songs sung in a rich Italian tenor played softly in the background. Reid had wanted to explain to Phoebe everything that had happened in the last week but now that they were sitting across from each other in this romantic atmosphere, he didn't quite know where to begin so he played with his salad hoping to find inspiration in the romaine lettuce tossed with tomatoes, cucumbers and carrots and topped liberally with Italian dressing. He looked up to find the grey eyes watching him. He might as well begin.

"You met Fletcher," Phoebe nodded and Reid continued. "Theresa Montoya was the housekeeper/au pair for Fletcher's parents who really didn't have much time for him…" Reid went on to explain about David Rafferty, his harassment of Theresa, his murder and Theresa's subsequent arrest. Phoebe's eyes widened as his explanation continued. "They didn't want to release her because they were afraid she'd run so I offered to take custody of her. I knew she and Fletcher would both feel better if they were together. They really love each other. So that's how she came to be staying with me. She slept in my room and I've been sleeping on the couch which will end on Monday because she's got a job cooking for Ambassador Prentiss. She's going to work her way towards culinary arts school. She's very excited abut her future."

"Why do I get the feeling that you had something to do with bringing all this about?"

"Not much," Reid replied as the waitress returned with their entrees.

"Um hm," Phoebe muttered skeptically, as she chewed on her veal scaloppini, "like you didn't jump in to help Fletcher and Jaime-Lynne. Thank you for your help with the math by the way. At least I know you'll have all the girls' undivided attention when you come to talk to my students."

"I didn't think you still wanted me to do that, you know, after your phone call last night."

"I'm sorry," Phoebe said rather sheepishly, "I guess I jumped the gun a little and, well, a bottle of zinfandel didn't help. But that Garcia woman did say certain things happen when you and Theresa are alone together."

This was the part he had been dreading. "Okay, I have to admit, I kissed Theresa twice," he babbled so quickly the words almost ran together. "Once was in the middle of a nightmare when I thought she was Hotch." He looked at the expression on Phoebe's face. "Not that I kiss Hotch, I don't. I never would. Something happened to me on a case once and it's left some scars and part of the residual effect is nightmares that I still have now and again. There were events that happened in the evening with Fletcher that kind of triggered the nightmare I guess and Theresa woke me up from it and was trying to comfort me and that's when it happened. I don't even think I was totally aware of it." He paused for a moment. "That sounds pretty lame doesn't it?"

Phoebe could tell by the look in her companion's eyes that something awful had happened to him. She'd never thought about the horror he faced in his job but she knew he was telling her the truth. Someone had hurt this kind and gentle man enough to leave him with enduring consequences. She reached her hand across the table and squeezed his.

"It's called post traumatic stress disorder and I never know when it'll rear its ugly head. It was really bad in the beginning. I was pretty messed up for a while but the nightmares and other effects have subsided and only pop up occasionally now. Anyway, Fletcher had been playing with my handcuffs. My PTSD began after I was held captive and my captor who was an insane serial killer used my own cuffs to help restrain me. Fletcher thought he was being funny and snuck up on me and put the cuffs on while I was talking to Theresa. I freaked out right in front of them. Scared the hell out of both of them and myself. I guess that's what triggered the nightmare."

"The…the second time Theresa was thanking me, you know, for the culinary school thing and it just happened. Fletcher witnessed both events and blew it all out of proportion, partly because he has this idea of me and Theresa being together and us being one big family. I told him my choice of female companionship was up to me, not him, but I can understand his feelings. When I was a kid, all I wanted was a normal family. Anyway, that's it."

"So it sounds like she kissed you more than you kissed her." Something I can totally understand Phoebe thought as she realized she still held Spencer's hand and how comfortable and right those long fingers felt in hers.

"Well," he looked down at his chicken fettuccini Alfredo to avoid her eyes, "I guess technically, I did participate," he said as he too realized the soft hand was still holding his. He was encouraged when she hadn't pulled back when he'd told her about his PTSD and Theresa. He liked the feeling of her small fingers nestled in his long ones.

"It sounds like you needed some comfort and I can't really blame Theresa for wanting to give you that comfort or for thanking you. I would too if you'd done all that for me. I mean, technically, I had no right to be upset. I have no hold on you. I guess I was just a little jealous," she paused, "okay, a lot jealous." Reid's eyes widened at Phoebe's admission. "What?" she said.

"Nothing," he replied although his heart warmed at the thought that this woman was jealous over him. "Poor Fletcher, I was blaming him for the whole thing because as far as I knew he was the only one that knew about it."

After their meals, dessert and two cups of cappuccino that would probably keep them both up all night, Reid drove Phoebe back to the school to collect her car. The ride from the restaurant to Whittier High School had seemed much too short Reid thought as he walked Phoebe to her vehicle. She clicked the door lock and turned to Reid. "Thank you for coming to explain things to me. You really didn't have to after the way I acted. And now I know who to call when my students are having trouble with a difficult math concept. And thank you for dinner, I really enjoyed myself."

"Me too, maybe we can do it again soon," Reid raised his eyebrow in question.

"For sure," Phoebe replied.

"Okay, well, good night then, drive safely." He turned to go back to his own vehicle when Phoebe called out.

"Spencer."

As Reid turned back Phoebe reached up and grabbed his tie near the knot effectively pulling him forward and planted her lips on his softly molding them to his as she felt Reid respond. Her hand left his tie and her arms snaked around his neck as she opened her mouth and the kiss deepened. Spencer's arms curved around her waist pulling her closer and she moaned as their tongues began to explore one another. Phoebe was relieved that Reid was holding her when they finally came up for air because she was sure her knees would give way at any moment. "Uh, was that to thank me or comfort me?" Reid asked.

Phoebe gave him a naughty grin as she ran a finger down his cheek and whispered, "Neither."

There would be no nightmares tonight Reid thought as he gazed into the lovely grey eyes that shone in the moonlight. Tonight there would be only sweet dreams when he finally let the sandman claim him but, he decided as he bent his head forward, before that there was time for at least one more kiss.


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------------------

Reid's lips moved from the suppleness of Phoebe's to her earlobe and down her neck, his nimble fingers made short work of the buttons of her blouse and he parted the deep blue silk fabric revealing the flawless smooth skin beneath. His mouth once again tracked downward until he reached the soft mounds hidden by gossamer black lace. He undid the bra clasp eliciting a moan of ecstasy from Phoebe as her breasts were released from their confinement and his hand gently cupped one, massaging it with his long fingers, while his mouth feathered the other with soft kisses until he found the nipple and slid softly over the hard center with his tongue. Phoebe threw back her head, moaning and shuddering in response. As he gently teased he could feel her body shake next to his own. His own body began to shake as well, almost like he had no control over it.

"Spencer, wake up," Fletcher said loudly in Reid's ear as he shook the man.

"What?" Reid said sleepily and a little irritably at being woken from the middle of a dream starring the lovely Phoebe.

"You were late getting in last night," Fletcher said while perching himself on the ottoman in front of the sofa.

"I wasn't aware that I had a curfew," Reid muttered into his pillow.

"Well, you don't. I suppose you were with Phoebe," he said the woman's name in a sing song voice.

Reid raised his head, resting it on his hand. "Can't put anything over on you can I?" he said feeling he might as well get this over with now. "What if I was?"

"Hey," the boy raised his hands in a defensive gesture, "I'm not saying anything but since you got home late, you must have made up, right?" He began to sing softly, "Spencer and Phoebe sittin' in a tree…" but stopped abruptly when Reid's pillow hit him on the head.

Theresa chose that moment to walk into the room. She stopped and put her hands on her hips. "Is that all the two of you can do, play games like children?"

"Technically Theresa, I am a child and Spencer's just enjoying some of the things he didn't get to do in his misspent youth," Fletcher said as he threw the pillow back at Reid.

"Yeah," Reid agreed.

"And you have to do this right now?"

Reid looked at Fletcher in confusion over Theresa's attitude. Had something happened while he was in dreamland? He hadn't blurted out Phoebe's name had he? "She's freaking out over the dinner party," the child explained.

Reid was momentarily relieved to hear that. "Why Theresa, you're a terrific cook? Everything will be great, I'm sure." Reid tried to assure the woman.

"It is not my cooking I am concerned about. Have you looked at your kitchen lately?"

Reid figured there was more than the obvious to this question and by the look on Theresa's face; he somehow felt there was no right answer. "Not in the last week," he replied, "you wouldn't let me in there except to do the dishes."

"It is the dishes that I am talking about. You hardly have any and the ones that you have, they do not match. How can I feed ten people when you do not even have ten plates? Where did you get those dishes anyway?"

"Well, I kind of picked most of them up at yard sales when I was in college. I didn't have a lot of money and there was only me so I didn't need much. I never have dinner parties. I mean, Morgan comes over once in a while and we have beer and pizza but we usually drink out of the bottles and just eat out of the box."

"How am I going to serve gazpacho for ten without a soup tureen?" Theresa began to pace.

"A soup tureen," Reid repeated as if he'd never heard the word before. "What would I be doing with a soup tureen? I think my mother used to have one but I pretty much sold all that stuff in my own yard sale when I left Las Vegas so I would have some money for expenses when I was at college."

"That is too bad because now we need one. There is only one answer. You must go on the computer for one of the department stores and I will pick out what you need to get and you must go and get it."

"Me!" Reid sat bolt upright. "I don't know anything about that kind of thing."

"I will send you with a note like a child if I must. You are a genius. I think you will be able to handle it," Theresa said as she turned toward the kitchen.

Reid stood and began to fold up his sheets and store them in the ottoman. "Why don't you come with me and you can choose what you want?"

"I cannot do that. I have beef to marinate and a cake to make. I must make preparating. Could you please do this for me?" Her eyes pleaded.

Reid opened his mouth to correct Theresa's English when Fletcher whispered through gritted teeth, "Don't argue with her when she's like this. She's got that hot Latin blood and when she blows, trust me, she blows."

"Okay, I'll get what you need and I'll take Fletcher with me so I can find out what kind of things he'd like for his room. That way I can get it redone while he's at school." Reid and Fletcher high fived each other.

"Gracias Spencer."

"No problem but first I need to go to the bathroom and have some coffee," Reid said as he headed for the hallway. Theresa poured some coffee, setting it on the island with a spoon and the sugar bowl.

After looking at pictures on the net and getting instructions from Theresa about what she needed, Reid and Fletcher got into his Volvo. As soon as Reid closed the door he took out his cell and punched in a number. "Good morning," Fletcher heard him say. "Would you like to go shopping?"

---------------------

Three pairs of eyes stared at the selection of dishes. "Theresa liked these," Reid pointed to ivory colored dishes with a large pink rose in the middle and smaller roses around the edge.

"They're very nice but I don't quite think they're quite you," Phoebe said. "Let's face it; you're a guy living alone." Fletcher cleared his throat. "Okay, living alone part of the time, sorry Fletcher. I figure you guys would like something more like this," she pointed to a black plate with silver and gold leaves around the edge.

"That would go nice with your black table," Fletcher interjected.

"You also said Theresa is going to be gone on Monday so who's going to be living with it, you or her?" Phoebe added.

Reid had to admit to himself that Phoebe was absolutely right. He did like the black. "Okay, you're right; I'll get the black. I guess it's time to get new dishes anyway. I don't suppose you'd like to come to dinner?" he asked.

"No," Phoebe replied, "as much as I'd like to meet the rest of the team, this is Theresa's party to say thank you. I'd be totally out of place. I'd love to come another night though."

"Yeah," Reid said as he started to load the box of black dishes into the shopping cart complete with extra platters and the all important soup tureen, "but another night you wouldn't be treated to Theresa's cooking. I can't cook like her."

"That's okay," she winked at Reid as she whispered; "I really wouldn't be coming for the cooking."

"I heard that," Fletcher said as both Spencer and Phoebe turned pink.

"Okaaay then," Phoebe turned away from Reid. "What's next, cutlery, candles, a tablecloth, napkins…?"


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------

Reid barely recognized his dining room table now cloaked in a white linen tablecloth with red and green napkins folded diagonally into neat triangles at either end. Phoebe had suggested the idea that since it was a Mexican feast the red napkins at one end and the green on the other would be reminiscent of the Mexican flag. Phoebe had also practically concluded that once the night was over the colors would also be good at Christmas time. Reid had told her he didn't entertain much, even at Christmas and Phoebe had responded that that situation could easily change, especially now that Fletcher would be with him for the holidays.

Theresa was thrilled when the pair had arrived at the apartment after a couple of trips to lug everything up. She admitted to being pleasantly surprised that they had even thought of tablecloths and napkins, let alone red and green and even candles. "Well that's because we had…" Fletcher began only to be nudged by Spencer, "two geniuses on the job." The boy stuck out his hands and shrugged, "How could we fail?"

Fletcher had also been excited to show Theresa the bedding he'd chosen for the new loft bed they'd picked out and that would soon be taking up residence in what was now Spencer's office. "That way I can sleep up top and have my desk, computer, books, CDs and everything under the bed," he explained. "This is going to be nothing like my old room. Isn't that the greatest?"

Theresa had smiled and admitted that it was indeed the greatest, hugging the boy warmly. She'd glanced up at Spencer as she held the child. "Thank you," she mouthed silently.

The apartment had smelled of a mixture of aromas, garlic, onion, chilis and yet nutmeg and cinnamon. Reid knew from the melding of the various aromas that whatever Theresa was cooking was going to taste fantastic.

Reid and Fletcher spent the afternoon playing chess while they listened to Theresa's never ending chopping. They put the tablecloth on the table and folded the napkins the way Phoebe had suggested. Theresa had been very impressed with the look. Reid put some plastic he'd bought on the ottoman and covered it with another tablecloth since Theresa was going to use it for appetizers. That had been another suggestion of Phoebe's to protect the ottoman from spills and stains. The guys felt they owed Phoebe big time for Theresa's mood evidenced by the humming that was coming from the kitchen.

Theresa finally announced that everything was as in order as it could be at the moment and she was going to shower and change. "Do we have to change too?" Fletcher asked looking at his T shirt and jeans.

Reid looked down at the black polo shirt and chinos he wore. "I suppose I could change my shirt. I don't think people are dressing up." After some time had passed Theresa came out of the bedroom in the black dress the girls had insisted she had to have and her new black pumps. "Oh yeah," Reid said, "we better change."

Reid entered the living room after exchanging his polo shirt for a black mock turtleneck topped with a black grey and cranberry striped shirt that he'd left untucked and open. Fletcher emerged from his room in black pants, a black T shirt and a striped shirt in various shades of blue open and untucked like Reid's. This had to stop, Reid thought. Tomorrow he decided he and Fletcher were having a talk about his clothes. Maybe he could get Morgan to take him shopping. He figured then he'd end up with T shirts and jeans and knowing Morgan, he'd bring him home with a tattoo or something. He couldn't ask Hotch. Fletcher'd end up with black suits and ties that were way too tight. Maybe David was the man for the job. He had a casual understated style that would be good for Fletcher. Reid was in the midst of these musings when the buzzer rang. Reid answered it to hear Morgan's "It's me man, open up." Reid pushed the button to release the doors.

When Morgan's knock sounded on the door, Fletcher hurried to answer it only to be stopped by Reid's, "Let's let Theresa get the door. It's her party. She's the hostess."

"Really Spencer, it is not necessary," she said as she made her way to the door and opened it for Morgan.

"Wo girl, look at you miss thang!" Morgan said as he entered "You are some kind of beautiful." Theresa thought he didn't look too bad either. He'd ditched his usual jeans for a pair of tan dress pants and an ivory rib knit sweater with a crew neck. He handed Theresa some CDs. "In keeping with the Mexican theme, I brought some music. I figured my man wouldn't have any, Julieta Venegas, Jimena and the man himself Mr. Jose Feliciano." He flipped through the CDs showing them to Theresa.

"Gracias Morgan, you did not have to bring anything. This party is for me to thank you."

"Face it Theresa, you're part of this odd little family we got goin' on here. You'll just have to get used to it."

Theresa handed the CDs to Reid. "Would you like to put one in the CD player? I will warm the appetizers. Theresa headed for the kitchen while Reid placed all three CDs in the player and set it on shuffle to play softly in the background.

"Beer," he asked Morgan.

"Yeah."

"I'll get it," Fletcher said and ran to the fridge coming back a few moments later with a bottle. "Spencer said you guys don't usually use glasses."

"You should at least off…" was all Reid got out before the buzzer sounded again.

"It's us," three female voices responded to Reid's hello. He pushed the button to let them in.

Theresa answered the door again to find JJ and Garcia on either side of Emily who was obscured by a massive flower arrangement. "That dress looks great on you," Garcia said as they walked in.

"Where do you want me to put this?" Emily asked. "We thought maybe your table could use a centerpiece." Reid relieved Emily of her burden and set the arrangement of tulips and dahlias in the center of the white tablecloth. JJ was dressed in a denim dress that fit tight to her body, ending just above the knee with black suede boots. Emily had chosen a black flared skirt with a black tunic featuring sequins around its V neck. Garcia wore a burgundy and ivory patterned skirt with a pink low neck top that showed some cleavage topped with a burgundy cashmere shrug.

"We thought we'd bring dahlias…" JJ began.

"Since they're the national flower of Mexico," Reid finished.

"Yes, boy wonder, we looked that up." Garcia looked at the others, "We should have just asked.

"They are so beautiful," Theresa went to the table and touched the lovely flowers. "You are all being so kind and bringing me things from my homeland. I am supposed to be doing for you not the other way around."

"From the smell of things mama, you've done a fine job of doing for us," Morgan responded. "Reid's place never smelled this good."

"I have made a pitcher of Mojito Del Sol, if anyone would like?"

"Sounds great to me, I'll help you," JJ said as she and Theresa headed for the kitchen to get the drinks.

The buzzer sounded again and Garcia who was nearest hollered, "Who goes there?"

"It's Hotch and Jack," came the reply.

"Enter if you dare," Garcia countered as she pushed the button releasing the door. She turned to take her mojito from JJ. Theresa placed a platter of quesadillas on the ottoman while JJ followed with a tray of tortilla chips and three dips.

"The red is pico de gallo, a salsa, the others are guacamole and sour cream. Enjoy please," she said as the doorbell rang and she was off again to answer it. She opened the door to see Hotch and a little boy. "Hello Hotch and this must be Jack," she said as the pair entered.

"I thought perhaps this could add to the festivities," Hotch who had dressed tonight in charcoal grey dress pants, a blue shirt topped with a navy sports jacket and no tie, said as he handed Theresa a bottle of tequila.

"Do I do it now Daddy," Jack asked eagerly. Hotch nodded and the child pulled a hand out from behind his back which held a gift wrapped box. "This is a gift for the hostess. It's chocolates. I helped pick them out myself. I got to taste them in the store."

"Jack," Hotch shook his head, "you're not supposed to tell."

"Thank you so much Jack. Would you like to have one?" she whispered. The child nodded and Theresa opened the box and Jack chose one of the sweet treats. The others looked on and smiled at the scene.

"Hotch," Reid said, "there's, well tequila, beer and Theresa has made a pitcher of mojitos."

"I'll just have a beer."

"Right," Reid said and headed for the kitchen. "Is there anything in here for the kids," he asked Theresa.

"Of course, I would not forget the children. The red liquid," she gestured towards a smaller pitcher, "cranberry juice and 7up. Put a slice of lime in it." She took Hotch his beer and a glass.

"These quesadillas are to die for," Emily said as she chewed. "You have to give me the recipe."

"Ches, I will be happy to," Theresa said as the buzzer sounded once again. The door was released and a few minutes later she opened the door to Rossi. "Agent Rossi, please come in."

Rossi entered the room carrying two bottles of wine. "It's Dave, a little something from my collection," he handed over the wine. I brought one white and one red. I know Garcia only drinks red." He also held a bag, "And these are for you."

Theresa looked in the bag, "Crystal wine glasses, mucho gracias agent…uh…Dave." Theresa put her hand over her mouth and tears filled her eyes. "This is all wrong. I am supposed to be the one giving to you and you all come with things for me from my homeland." She looked at the bottles of wine she held, "Casa Madero of Parras, this is Mexican wine."

"That's the oldest winery in the western hemisphere," Fletcher interjected making everyone laugh.

"How does an eight year old know that?" Garcia asked.

"I come from wine country. It's like somebody from Idaho knowing about potatoes."

Reid got Rossi a drink while Theresa busied herself in the kitchen and returned with the soup tureen full of gazpacho. "Is that what I think it is?" JJ asked as she chewed on a tortilla chip.

"If you mean, is it gazpacho, then ches, you are right. You may serve yourselves whenever you are ready."

JJ jumped up. "I've been saving myself for this all day," she said as she dashed for the table.

Hotch eyed the red soup, Reid's furniture and Jack, thinking the three were not a good combination. Fletcher noticed Hotch's expression. "Hey Jack; want to eat with me over at the island. You can sit on one of the high stools. It's fun, come on." Jack followed the older boy to the stools and Reid stepped in when Fletcher's attempts to lift the smaller boy onto the stool failed. He quickly lifted the young Hotchner onto the stool and brought them some soup.

"Nice save," he said to Fletcher.

"My soup is cold Daddy," Jack hollered when he took his first mouthful.

"It's supposed to be cold," Fletcher explained. "It's a liquid salad so that's why it's cold. It originated in the southern Spanish region of Andalusia in the middle ages. It didn't come over to the western hemisphere unt…"

"Uh Fletcher," Reid said and the boy turned to look at him and Reid drew his index finger across his neck which sent the team into gales of laughter. "What?"

"That's a good one man, you tryin' to shut the kid up when he sounds exactly like you," Morgan laughed. "Now you know what we have to put up with every day."

Theresa began to gather up bowls. "Let me help you Theresa," Emily said and the other two women jumped up as well, helping put dishes in the dishwasher and bringing things from the oven to the table. It all smelled glorious Emily thought as she set a platter of chicken and rice on the table.

Theresa identified the dishes for the team. "These are Arracheras," she said pointing to steak peppers and onions wrapped in tortillas. "These are chicken enchiladas covered with sauce and grated cheese." She pointed to the next dish, "Arroz con Pollo, chicken with rice. And the last dish, refried beans."

The team dug in heartily while Reid opened the wine and served it to the guests. "Theresa, this is absolutely delicious." Garcia said as she tasted the steak tortilla.

"I am glad you are enjoying it. It was my pleasure to make it for you. Make sure to save room for dessert. I have made a pecan cake with cajeta, which is a caramel sauce, and crème fraîche."

"My mother is going to be so thrilled when she finds out you can cook like this," Emily remarked.

"How did it go with Emily's mother?" JJ asked.

"It went very well. The ambassador was so kind and did the interview mostly in Spanish."

"Yeah, and Spencer and I got iced tea, sandwiches and little dainties while we waited so it was really good."

"Looks like things are looking up for you girl, I'm glad," Morgan told Theresa.

"Ches, now I must work on getting this GED."

"We'll help Theresa," Emily said. "We can have a girls' quiz night. It'll be fun."

Reid just about choked on his enchilada, "What?" Garcia asked.

"Oh, nothing, just wondering how much you'll get accomplished. I remember what happened on the last girls' night out. I think she'll get more done with Fletcher and I helping tutor her."

"Hmm girls, that sounds a little bit like a challenge. We'll just see about that, won't we," JJ said with some confidence.

"That is why I wanted to have this dinner; because none of what has happened to me would have happened without all of you. Hotch, he came to be my lawyer and talked the policía into letting me go. The others worked so hard to prove that I did not do this. Emily asked her mother to give me a job cooking for her. And Spencer, you have taken me into your home and looked into opportunities for my future and now you are all again offering to help me. I just do not know how to thank you all. This is the only way I know to say mucho gracias for all you have done for me."

There was a murmured you're welcome from the team. Reid set his plate down and picked up his wine glass. "Uh, I'm probably the least qualified person to do this but here goes. Theresa, each of us only knows a small part of all the struggles you've gone through to get to where you are now. You are a good friend, a wonderful cook and a beautiful person inside and out. You're starting on a new path in your life and I know it's going to be an adventure. It won't always be easy but I know you'll work hard and you'll do fine, better than fine; you'll be great." He looked down at the glass in his hand. "Remember we're always here for you; knowing these six people like I do, I can honestly tell you, they're the best. You're welcome to come and cook here anytime, especially now that I have a soup tureen." The group laughed. "We all wish you the best of luck in your new endeavors." He raised his glass, "To Theresa." The group echoed Reid's toast and glasses clinked, even the children sitting at the island as tears ran down the young woman's face.


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

----------------------

Reid awoke Sunday morning to the sound of Theresa in the kitchen which wasn't unusual but the aromas were not that of the usual breakfast fare. "Good morning Theresa," he said groggily as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What are you cooking?"

"I am not going to be here after today so I thought that I would make you some meals and put them in the freezer and all you would have to do is heat them up."

"But Theresa, you don't have…" Reid stopped in mid sentence. Cooking was the only thing Theresa thought she did well, he realized. It was her way of showing that she cared. It was her way of showing love. Who was he to deter her in that mission? And, he considered, it would be nice to come home from a case when there was nothing fresh in the apartment and find a meal that he'd just have to heat up, especially one as good as Theresa's. "Gracias," he said.

"Da nada," Theresa smiled at his use of Spanish.

"Is Fletcher still sleeping?"

"Ches, it was late before the party was over, the little one, he is tired."

"Theresa, could you come over here and sit for a few minutes. I'd like to talk to you about Fletcher."

Theresa pulled what she had been cooking off the burner and came to sit in one of the chairs flanking the sofa. "Is something wrong Spencer," she asked with concern.

"You know Fletcher better than anyone," Reid said.

"Ches, in some ways this is true. I know the little boy who longs for love and affection but you…you understand and know the other side of him. You know, the genius side that most of the world does not understand."

"But is that enough?"

"What do you mean, Spencer?"

"Okay, what I'm saying is that I want to be sure I'm doing what's best for Fletcher in all ways. I'm taking him from his real family and making him part of this makeshift family in my world. I mean, I had doubts about my parents. My mother was mentally ill and couldn't always respond to me in the way a mother should but I know now that she loves me more than anything in her life. She's very proud of me even though she hasn't always been able to show it. My father left me when I was ten for his own reasons and though he declares that he's always loved me and is proud of me, I can't forget the many ways I suffered because of his desertion."

Theresa was quiet for a moment appearing to choose her words carefully. "I am closer to Fletcher, you and your team than I am to any of mi familia. Mi padre and hermanó hurt me badly and mi madre just let it happen. How can I feel close to them? Sometimes a family made up of those who chose you is better than one that is only connected by blood."

Reid nodded at the wisdom of Theresa's statement. "Theresa, even though you and Fletcher will be apart, I want you to stay close to him. I'm going to tell the school that I want you to have full access to Fletcher. If you have a day off and you want to take the bus to Baltimore and see him, that's great or call me and if we're not on a case and have a day off, I'll take you. I don't want him to be deprived of anyone that he loves."

"Do not worry Spencer, I will do whatever I can for mi chico pequeño precioso, I love him."

"Okay, thanks Theresa, I better get into the shower before Fletcher gets up and uses all the hot water."

"I heard that," a little voice said as Fletcher came out of his bedroom, "Morning Spencer."

"Good morning Fletcher," Reid ruffled the boy's hair as he headed for the bathroom.

-----------------------

Theresa had stopped her meal stocking marathon long enough to make the guys a breakfast of scrambled eggs, ham, hash browns and buttermilk biscuits. She had returned to her cooking while Reid and Fletcher played gin at the dining room table when the downstairs buzzer sounded. "I'll get it," Fletcher said as he jumped up and pressed the intercom. "Hello,' he said into the microphone.

"Hi little man, it's Garcia."

"Hi Garcia, come on up," the boy replied as he pressed the button releasing the door.

Garcia, Reid's eyes squinted. What would she be doing here? Had she left her purse or something after the party? He hadn't seen anything. He guessed he'd soon find out as the doorbell rang and Fletcher opened it admitting the bubbly woman. She bent down and gave Fletcher a warm affectionate hug. She was dressed today in blue jeans with bright beaded flowers whose stems and leaves wound all the way down the legs, a white tank with similarly beaded flowers and a red jacket. Her red glasses matched the jacket while the blue streak in her hair matched the jeans. She carried a huge navy tote bag over her shoulder.

"Wow, something sure smells good in here. Didn't you cook enough yesterday Theresa," she said waving at the girl in the kitchen. "I thought Reid would have leftovers for a few days at least although we did polish off quite a bit of food. Thanks to you Theresa, I think I put on ten pounds."

"Well, they look good on you Garcia. Theresa feels she has to make me some meals to freeze or I'll starve once she leaves," Reid explained as he got up from his chair and came over to her still curious as to why she was here but not wanting to ask.

"That's a good idea Theresa. This guy needs to eat more. I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," she said as if reading Reid's mind. "I come bearing gifts," she walked over to the couch and set down her tote bag on the ottoman. "You too Theresa, get in here." Theresa stopped what she was doing and came to sit on one of the chairs. Reid sat on the other while Fletcher sat beside Garcia on the couch wondering what gift she could have brought.

"You guys remember last night at the party I took a bunch of pictures of everybody," she reached into her tote bag and pulled out what looked like three books. "I developed the pictures on the computer and put them in photo albums so that you, Theresa, will have memories of your friends at the Prentiss home and you, my tiny genius, will have your new family close to you when you're at school. I also made one for you sweet pea." She handed the third album to Reid.

"Wow, thanks Garcia, this is so cool," Fletcher said as he opened the album and began to look at the pictures. "Look at this one with Jack; he's got gazpacho all over his face." He flipped another page. "That's a cool one of me, Theresa and Spencer. Do you think I could put that one in a frame and put it in my room at school?"

"Sure, you can do whatever you want with them, they're yours." Garcia told him.

"This is so lovely Garcia," Theresa said, her eyes full of tears.

Reid flipped slowly through the pictures. There were pictures of everyone on the team and pictures of them together and each of them with Fletcher. There were pictures of Theresa with her newfound family. The last picture in the album was Fletcher smiling broadly at the camera. It wasn't the kind of smile that was put on when one knew they were having their picture taken, it was a candid moment of a happy little boy. Fletcher was happy. Reid needed no further validation that the path he'd undertaken was the right one. This simple gesture, that one smile, had given him all the answers he needed.

Morgan had once described Garcia as his God given solace. She was indeed all that. How had she known this was just what they needed? Reid closed his eyes briefly and thanked God for this truly magnificent woman before he turned to her and choked out, "Thank you Garcia, they're beautiful."

-------------------

Reid closed the door behind Garcia and Fletcher. She was taking the child out for a spin in Esther and some ice cream. "Theresa, I have to talk to you," Reid said as he motioned for Theresa who'd already returned to her work in the kitchen to join him. She stopped what she was doing and came to once again sit on the chair while Reid sat on the couch.

"Spencer, is something wrong?" she asked when Reid sat for several moments without speaking.

"No, this is just hard. I'm trying to find the words. I…I like you Theresa, very much and I admit to being very attracted to your beauty." He paused for a few moments. "But when you and I kiss, although it's very enjoyable, I don't feel the way that I should when I've kissed you. And that bothers me because I don't want to be like the other men in your life who have taken what they wanted from you with no regards for your feelings. I treasure your friendship like I do with Garcia, JJ and Emily but I think when we kiss each other it's confusing Fletcher. He wants a family so much and…"

"Spencer, it is alright." Theresa reached over and touched his hand briefly. "I understand." She looked down at her hands resting on her lap for a moment and then looked up into his eyes. "You are an honorable man and that you would talk to me instead of just dropping me off at Ambassador Prentiss' home, it…it says you have much," she searched for the word, "integrity. I respect you always and will always treasure your friendship. It is Phoebe, ches?"

"Yeah, well, I don't know, I mean I don't know her very well yet but I want to know her better."

"And you feel like you should when you kiss her?" she asked and Reid nodded. "Then she is a very lucky lady."

"Theresa, you're going to be starting on a great journey, discovering things you've never been able to because you've been so downtrodden all your life. You'll be discovering new things about cooking, about your adopted country and about the world around you. But most of all you'll be discovering who Theresa Montoya really is. And won't that be the best discovery of all?"


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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"I still don't see why I have to see the doctor. Aren't my files good enough?" Fletcher said as they left the Newmount Medical Clinic on Monday morning where Reid had provided the much respected pediatrician, Dr. Elaine Marx with medical records from Dr. Graham in San Francisco and the papers naming him as Fletcher's legal guardian. They made an appointment for the next day as Fletcher also had to undergo a physical so that he had the clean bill of health that Weinthorpe Academy insisted upon for all students being admitted to the institution.

"Because the school requires it before you can be admitted." Reid had taken a week of personal time to get Fletcher settled into school. They had driven Theresa to the Prentiss estate earlier that day with the few belongings she had with her. She had said she didn't want anything from San Francisco when she had called and informed Anise Fletcher that she would not be returning. She'd told them Fletcher's mother had been surprised by Theresa's decision. Reid felt she'd held back on some to the conversation so she would not say anything derogatory about Fletcher's mother. Theresa felt her things in San Francisco were from her old life. She was starting a new life now. The slate was clean and she didn't want any reminders of what had come before. It had been an emotional good bye for Theresa and Fletcher and Reid only hoped that they'd both get so caught up in their new lives that they wouldn't miss each other too much. Reid had given Theresa a cell phone with the team and Fletcher on speed dial and she had hugged him closely in response. As they drove away, the usually talkative Fletcher said nothing and just looked out the window. Reid could see the boy's reflection in the glass and noticed him wipe his eyes a few times.

They had just gotten home from their visit to the clinic when boxes arrived from San Francisco. They contained Fletcher's clothes, books, his computer and other personal items all packed neatly and with care. Reid was sure Anise Fletcher had hired someone to do the job. He couldn't see her or Bruce Bancroft taking such care with Fletcher's things. The boy was happy to get them but he'd been quiet for some time afterward. Maybe he'd been hoping that at the last moment his parents would decide they couldn't go through with it and seeing the boxes suddenly made it all too real. It was as if he realized a bridge had been crossed that led away from his parents. It hadn't exactly been burned like the bridge between him and his father, Reid thought, but nonetheless, there was more distance now, both physical and emotional between Fletcher and his parents and the child needed some time to take it all in. Reid wished that Theresa starting her new position and the arrival of the boxes hadn't happened on the same day. It was too much emotion for an eight year old to handle all at once. Genius might mean that he could process more information and understand difficult concepts more easily than the average person but it did nothing to shield you from pain and heartache.

Reid found the boy sitting on the futon in his room just staring into the boxes. "Do I unpack them or do I just leave them and take them to the school with me?"

"There's too much here to take it all to school so they'll have to be unpacked."

"Yeah, okay," the boy choked out as he put his hand into the box. Reid put his hand on Fletcher's back and as he turned his head Reid could see his bottom lip quivering.

"You've got a lot of stuff there," Reid said as he got down on his knees. "How about we do it together?"

------------------------

The windshield wipers of Reid's old Volvo had kept a steady rhythm for the last hour though it didn't seem that long to the occupants of the old beater. The car had seemed to eat up the thirty-six miles and they reached the outskirts of Baltimore in no time. Their appointment with the school's headmaster wasn't until three so they stopped for lunch at a little diner. Both Reid and Fletcher's expressions reflected the dreariness of the rain that was running down the windows next to the booth in which they sat. Reid ordered a hamburger and fries but Fletcher only wanted fries. Reid didn't argue although Fletcher hadn't eaten much at breakfast either but under the circumstances he didn't blame the boy. Also, Reid had to admit, he couldn't make breakfast like Theresa.

The rain had stopped and the sun had started to shine when they once again wound their way through Baltimore to the east part of the city. The Weinthorpe Academy was not hard to spot. The winding road that led up to it gave the pair a view of the massive grounds the imposing red brick complex sat on. They could see students out in various fields involved in sports from field hockey to tennis. Reid drove up the circular drive at the center of which stood a huge fountain constructed of sandstone. They parked in the lot designated for visitors and Reid grabbed the file from the seat beside him that contained the papers naming him Fletcher's legal guardian, the boy's medical report and transcripts from his former school in San Francisco.

They walked past the huge fountain and Reid noted words carved into the stone that circled the cascading showpiece. They both stopped to read them.

_To acquire knowledge one must study; but to acquire wisdom one must observe._

_Develop a passion for learning. If you do you'll never cease to grow._

_Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination circles the world._

"Ready?" Reid said after they'd finished reading.

Fletcher nodded and the pair walked up the steps of the massive red brick building that served as the center of the facility and broke off into two wings. One, Reid assumed housed the school and the other, dormitories. Once through the doors they were in a large lobby. The stone wall they faced had another quotation carved into it.

_It's important that students bring a certain ragamuffin, barefoot irreverence to their studies; they are not here to worship what is known but to question it._

"May I help you," an older woman whose very dark black hair obviously came from a bottle judging by the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth and on her hands.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I have an appointment with Dr. Fielding regarding the admittance of Fletcher Bancroft." Reid gestured to the boy at his side.

"Oh yes, Dr. Fielding's been expecting you. Please wait here," she indicated some chairs, "and I'll let him know you're here."

The woman returned a few moments later and asked that they follow her. She led them down a hallway with closed doors at intervals on either side. When they reached the farthest end of the hall she knocked on one of the doors. A curt, "Come in," could be heard from within.

"Dr. Spencer Reid and Fletcher Bancroft," the woman said to the man who sat behind the desk. Reid took him to be in his mid forties with a head of wavy brown hair. He wore a tan shirt and brown striped tie. His jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up. He stood and approached them.

"Thank you Mrs. Halliday," he said, dismissing the woman. "A pleasure to meet you Dr. Reid, John Fielding," he held out his hand and Reid shook it. "It's nice to meet you too Fletcher. So you're interested in going to school here?"

"Yes sir," Fletcher nodded.

"Please sit down," he offered them chairs in front of his crowded desk. The pair sat and Reid leaned forward handing Dr. Fielding the file. Fielding perused it quickly. He then explained about the curriculum and how it was personally designed for each student. They would do that today before Reid left. He'd also show them the dorms. Fletcher would be rooming with another eight year old. The school was coed but the dorms were completely separate. Key cards from the boy's dorm would not open the doors to the girl's dorm and vice versa. There was a fingerprint pad and security cameras at all times to ensure the safety of the children.

"Isn't that a little extreme? Why would I want to get into the girls' dorm?" Fletcher asked.

"You're eight," Reid replied. "Wait until you're fifteen, you will."

"Precisely," Fielding replied. "So let's get started on that curriculum, shall we? One more thing I forgot to mention. All students are required to participate in some physical activity. We find it's good for a number of reasons, it promotes good heath, great socialization, competition, it aids in general camaraderie and we've found that contrary to popular opinion, some genii are quite athletic. We'll give Fletcher a few days and he can watch the others and decide what he'd like to participate in."

------------------------

Reid and Fletcher had lugged the boxes from the car to his dorm that was thankfully on the first floor. Fielding had said the younger children always occupied the first floor. His room would change as he got older. A young boy was already in the room when they entered. "Hi," he said brightly. "They told me I was getting a roommate. My name's Jamal Henry."

"Fletcher Bancroft," Fletcher said as he sized up the other boy. He was much the same height as Fletcher, black, his fuzzy hair cropped short.

"My bed is the one by the window so this will be yours," he pointed to the other bed. Reid noticed the room had two of everything, beds, dressers, closets, desks and nightstands. It was a much larger dorm room than the ones he'd seen at college. They put Fletcher's things on the bed that would be his.

"This is Spencer Reid, Dr. Spencer Reid," Fletcher told the boy.

"Hi Jamal," Reid said. "It's nice to meet you. I guess we better start getting you unpacked." The pair emptied the boxes. Reid set up Fletcher's computer while he put his clothes away in the closet. He tucked his photo album in the drawer of his nightstand.

"Okay," Reid said, "I guess you're all set." He stood awkwardly as he tried to figure out what to say. "You take care of yourself and I'll be up next week to see how you're doing. You can call me or Theresa anytime, okay?" Fletcher seemed unable to speak so he only nodded. "Okay then I'll go now. I'll see you around Jamal. I'll see you next week," he said as he ruffled the boy's hair and turned for the door.

"Spencer," he heard Fletcher yell before he turned the knob. Reid turned back and Fletcher ran into his arms. "Bye," he said through his tears. "I miss you already. Be careful at work, okay. I love you," he whispered in Reid's ear.

"I love you too," Reid choked out through his own tears as he set the boy on the floor and hurried out the door.

"He your dad?" Jamal asked after Reid had left.

Fletcher sat on the bed and reached to the nightstand picking up the framed picture of himself, Spencer and Theresa. "No," he replied, "better."

----------------------------

Reid had just left the Baltimore city limits when his cell rang. "Reid," he said, praying for once it was a case, something that would take his mind off the emptiness in his heart at this moment.

"Hi, where are you?" said a familiar voice.

"I'm just outside of Baltimore."

"How did it go?"

"Fine," he said in a choked squeak.

"Uh huh, well I just happen to have a steak here with your name on it. See you later."

-------------------------------

She opened the door an hour later, her blond hair pulled back in a pony tail. She pulled him into her living room and held him in her arms. "It was like déjà vu. I'm telling Fletcher that I love him yet I'm leaving him in an institution with strangers. It was just like what I did to my mother."

"You did what was best for your mother and you did what was best for Fletcher." Why did doing the right thing always have to tear this poor man apart? "You come over here," she took his hand and pulled him toward the couch. We'll watch something ridiculous on TV, we'll have popcorn and any other junk food we want and we'll laugh and cry, okay?"

"What about the steak with my name on it?"

"It'll have your name on it two weeks from now too. Tonight you need comfort food. Later we'll have some tomato soup and grilled cheese. Go turn on the TV. I'll pop some popcorn."

As she reached the kitchen, he called to her. "Garcia, have I told you lately that I love you?"

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Quote # 1- Marilyn Vos Savant

Quote # 2- Anthony J. D'Angelo

Quote # 3- Albert Einstein

Quote # 4- Jacob Chanowski


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: This is it folks. I hope you've all enjoyed it. Thanks to all who took the time to read and review. I'm encouraged by the feedback. As always thanks to mablereid for her support.

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Epilogue…

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"Morgan can't you drive any faster?" Reid asked from the back seat. They were traveling north along the I95 to Baltimore. "That's a stupid question, I know you can, I've risked my life with you before so why not today?"

"I'm going the speed limit Reid. Don't worry, we won't be late."

"The speed limit! When has that ever held you back?" Reid looked at his watch again. "Morgan, sometimes with rush hour traffic on the beltw…" He felt a soft hand go over his mouth.

Morgan's eyes left the road for a moment to glance back and see that Phoebe had her hand over Reid's mouth. "He he he, atta girl Phoebe."

"Morgan keep your eyes on the road," Hotch said from his seat beside Morgan.

"Don't worry, we'll get there," Phoebe whispered to Reid as she ran her silky fingertips up his leg which normally sent him into orbit but, in his present state, had little effect although he did feel stirring in his nether regions.

"Miss Coulter," he whispered, "are you trying to seduce me?"

"Well just a little, just to take your mind off things, of course and I'm kind of worried that it's not working. Maybe I've lost my touch."

"Believe me," he whispered again, "you haven't." He raised his eyebrows and it was all Phoebe could do to hold in the laughter.

"Well, thanks for the reassurance," she said as she cupped his chin in her hand, turned his head and planted her lips briefly on his.

"Daddy, 'Pencer and Phoebe are smoochin'," Jack, in his car seat beside Phoebe, informed Hotch and Morgan in the front of the SUV.

"Reid," Hotch said sternly from the passenger seat beside Morgan.

"Hotch," Reid squeaked. "I didn't do anything. Look," he held up his hands, "no hands," while Phoebe sat with her hands innocently on her lap.

"Reid if you don't behave yourself we're pulling over and Phoebe can go in the other car with the rest of the girls and you'll be stuck holding hands with Dave."

"Alright, I'll be good," he shot Phoebe a dirty look but she just winked at him in response. "I probably would have been of better use with the others."

"I know my man but the girls wanted to use this trip as a quiz session for Theresa. You know they been workin' hard helping her study for her GED. They felt you threw down a challenge and they're determined to beat you."

---------------------------

"So how are you enjoying your job with Ambassador Prentiss?" JJ asked Theresa as they followed the SUV in Emily's car.

"She has been so nice to me. When there is nothing going on, she tells me it is alright if I want to work on my studies," said the young Mexican woman who sat in the backseat between JJ and Garcia.

"Garcia held the GED quiz book in her hand. "Okay, question 29…"

---------------------

It was warm; the sun radiated from the heavens combined with a slight cooling breeze, just perfect for a game of baseball. The bleachers were starting to fill when the group arrived at King's field. "See Reid, I told you we'd get here on time," Morgan said as they found an empty area big enough to seat everyone. "Reid was fretting all the way here," Morgan told the others.

"Hey Reid, you know what? You're becoming a soccer dad," Garcia informed him as she took the seat next to him.

"Now Garcia that's hardly plausible since I'm not Fletcher's dad and this is baseball, not soccer."

"I think you're splitting hairs Reid," Emily said as she took a seat behind Phoebe, Spencer, Garcia, Hotch and Jack, with Morgan, JJ, Theresa and Dave.

"I kind of wished he'd picked soccer," JJ interjected. "Then I could have given him some pointers."

"From the reports I get from the phys ed instructor, he's doing really well. I mean look at his position, he's the catcher. He gets to call the game. He's the man!"

"Baseball dad," they all said as one.

The kids started to come out on the field for warm up throws. "Look," Reid said, "there he is." He stood up when Phoebe grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

"Don't you dare yell out anything to embarrass the kid. He needs his wits about him."

"Well, I uh…just wanted him to know we're here. I missed his last game because we had a case."

"Knowing Garcia, when the action starts, he's definitely going to know we're here." She whispered to him. Phoebe turned to Garcia, "By the way thanks for all that you did for Jaime-Lynne. She's come out of her shell a lot since you took her under your wing."

"Hey don't thank me; it was fun, like having a little sister. We all did the day, she and Theresa both got their ears pierced." Theresa pulled back her hair to reveal the gold hoops that hung from her earlobes. "We practiced with different makeup at the salon. We all enjoyed ourselves. She's a great kid."

"She's got a lot more self confidence now and I think she owes it all to you. It's showing in her schoolwork as well."

"Well, if I recall correctly, it wasn't me that came up with the brainwave but Mr. I.Q. here." She jerked her thumb in Reid's direction.

"Shh, guys, they're about to start." Reid said from between the two women as the team from the Weinthorpe Academy took the field. The team from Kings Crossing was up to bat.

The first two batters were a strikeout and a fly to right field. The third hit a grounder to the shortstop and was thrown out at first. Phoebe had been right, Reid thought, Garcia was on her feet cheering for the Weinthorpe team in their wine colored jerseys and white and black pinstriped pants.

The Kings Crossing team took the field in their purple jerseys and white pants. "Hey Reid," Morgan said from behind him. "I see Fletcher's batting cleanup. He must be a pretty good hitter."

"He's batting .310 in the games he's played so far," Reid confirmed for his friend.

Jamal Henry, Fletcher's roommate was up to bat first. He and Fletcher had become fast friends. Jamal hit a grounder past the first baseman and was safe at first. The second batter struck out and the third hit a fly to the shortstop and then Fletcher came to the plate. He gripped the bat like he'd been born with it in his hands, Reid thought. "Go Fletcher," Garcia yelled from her seat beside Reid.

"Be quiet Garcia," Rossi said. "Don't interrupt the boy's concentration."

Fletcher let the first pitch go by, "Strike one," the umpire yelled. Fletcher choked up on his bat, took his stance once again and hit the next pitch foul in the direction of the Kings Crossing bullpen, "Strike two." The third pitch landed in the dirt at the catcher's feet allowing the speedy Jamal at first to take second base, "Ball one." As the fourth pitch got to the plate Fletcher sent it with a ping from the aluminum bat past the shortstop and into centerfield where it escaped the diving centerfielder and rolled to the fence. Fletcher rounded the bases, sliding feet first into third base in a cloud of dust, barely beating the throw from the outfield while Jamal crossed home plate.

The team along with Phoebe, Theresa and Jack all sprang to their feet. Garcia yelled, "Way to go Fletcher," while Morgan put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Fletcher waved to them from his perch on third base. The batter after Fletcher grounded out ending the inning and leaving Fletcher stranded at third base.

Weinthorpe took the field again and after a few warm up throws the first batter from Kings Crossing stepped up to the plate. The first pitch, a fastball low and inside, sailed by the batter and also missed Fletcher's mitt but made firm contact with his groin area. The boy let out a groan that was audible in the stands as he fell from his catcher's squat to his knees. There was a collective hiss from the men in the stands as two men in Weinthorpe jackets came out to attend to the boy.

"Oh man, that's gotta hurt," Morgan said behind Reid. "I hope he was wearing a cup."

Reid leapt to his feet, trying to make his way past people in the stands when Morgan and Rossi grabbed him by the shoulders and plunked him unceremoniously back in his seat.

"Leave him be Reid," Rossi said quietly in his ear. "The coach and the medic are attending to him."

"Yeah Reid, what are you going to do?" Morgan asked, "Run down to the field and check out his boys with all these people watching?"

"He's my responsibility," Reid said as he saw Fletcher stand, bend over and take some deep breaths. He paced a few times while the medic and the coach watched.

"And part of that responsibility is letting him get hurt," Hotch added. "He'll stumble, he'll fall, he'll skin his knees and he may even break bones. His first love will likely break his heart but he'll handle it."

"I know you don't want him ever to suffer," Garcia added. "You identify with him, you always have, and you don't want him to suffer like you did. Just remember, he's got one thing you didn't have."

Those eyes that had seen so much yet somehow still shone with pure innocence looked intently at Garcia, "What's that?" he asked.

"You, silly."

---------------------------

The car and SUV stopped in front of the school. Dinner at a nearby steakhouse had been fun. Theresa seemed to be fully at home with the team; she and the other women had become good friends. Fletcher had suffered through some mild teasing from Morgan about getting back up and carrying on after the assault on "his boys."

Reid and Fletcher exited the vehicle and hurried into the dormitory. They had only a few minutes until Fletcher had to be up in his room. A couple of boys Fletcher's age were leaving the lounge as the pair was entering. They high fived Fletcher, praising him for playing a great game. Beating Kings Crossing had been a huge coup for Weinthorpe and a message to others that the academy students could be known for more than their brains.

"You were quiet at dinner," Reid said as he took a seat on one of the wine colored leather sofas throughout the large room which contained bookcases full of books, computers, puzzles, board games such as chess, backgammon, scrabble and go and a large plasma screen. The room had everything to stimulate the young mind.

"I was not!" Fletcher exclaimed in his defense.

"Are you in pain?" Reid asked.

"No," he paused for a moment as Reid raised his eyebrows, "okay, maybe just a little."

"Only physical pain?"

"Spencer, what are you talking about?"

"You were quiet at dinner. You hit those baseballs like you were trying to hit them out of the stratosphere. You took a hard hit to the testicles yet you smiled all through dinner like a person who wants others to believe there's nothing wrong. I'm a profiler, remember."

"Yeah," Fletcher said as he sat gingerly on the couch and winced slightly. "I had to get a guardian who's a profiler. Why didn't I get stuck with a plumber?"

"Just your rotten luck, I guess. Is it something here at school that's bothering you?"

The boy was silent for a few moments, then shrugged in resignation. "No, I like it here. It's a good school and I get along great with Jamal and the other kids."

"What then?"

"Okay, I emailed my mom and dad and my dad sent back an email that was like a business letter and nothing from my mom. They must be really glad to be rid of me so I'm going to be happy to be rid of them. I have you and Theresa," he wiped a stray tear from his cheek. "That's all I need."

"I know how you feel. That's how I felt about my father. I despised him so much that I thought he could be guilty of a heinous crime. He wasn't. My father claims he's always loved me and been proud of me but I don't know if I can ever trust him again."

"Family is important. You might not think so now that you're angry but it's true. Maybe your parents don't know how to respond because they don't know what to say. They've been hiding their true selves and maybe they don't know how to explain that to you. They don't understand that you and I know exactly what that's like. How many times have we not answered questions we knew the answer to because we didn't want to appear as smart as we are? We wanted to fit in. Sometimes the team will say 'what, no statistic!' when I'm really just trying to be more conversational and trying to fit in."

"That's why your parents originally did what they did, to fit in. Was it wrong, probably? But their error in judgment did one thing. It gave you to the world and for that I can't hate them. I think if they're given the chance to be who they are, they may eventually come around. You have every right to be hurt and every right to be angry. Just don't close and lock that door just yet. Leave it open a crack and give it some time. I'll always be here to talk to."

"Promise?" the boy said hopefully.

"I promise," Reid confirmed. "You better get off to your room. You don't want to get in trouble."

"Okay, I'll see you next week," he raised his hand as Reid was about to open his mouth. "I know, if you don't have a case. Bye," the boy said as he gave Reid a quick hug, turned and ran from the room. Reid stood alone in the silence of the large room and watched Fletcher disappear into the dormitory. He had promised to be there for Fletcher. He would not let Fletcher down, he now promised himself.

"You were in there a long time," Morgan remarked as Reid got into the car. Jack, he noted, was asleep in his car seat.

Phoebe squeezed his hand, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly as he nodded. He hoped he'd given Fletcher the right advice. Morgan started the SUV and as they began the trek home in the darkening night the words of a Frost poem popped into his head.

_But I have promises to keep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep._

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**The End**


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